Deleted Scenes
by Terp4Life
Summary: This story fills in some of the gaps between the scenes from The Walking Dead, as if they were deleted scenes like you'd find on a DVD. It focuses mainly, though not exclusively, on Carol & Daryl because they're my favorites. I'm following the path of the show, just with extra emphasis on the Caryl relationship.
1. Hope

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead. I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Season 1, episode 3**

**The woods outside Atlanta, night**

The world had gone to hell, and they were now living outside, in a makeshift camp, with strangers. And yet, she'd been living in hell for years already. This wasn't all that different, except that in this new hell, there was no electricity or running water. And yes, she missed those things… but she would have gladly lived without them for the rest of her life if it meant she didn't have to be afraid for her own safety or that of her daughter ever again. Unfortunately, this trade was not an option.

In a way, it was so much harder now. Now that they had become, however temporarily, part of a larger group, even if it was just on the periphery. Her husband demanded that they keep their distance from "these people." It was harder, in this camp, to pretend that everything was normal. She felt pulled in two directions. On the one hand, there was the loyalty she felt to her husband, no matter that others would probably not understand this loyalty in the face of everything she suffered. If she was being honest, that loyalty was also mixed with a healthy dose of fear. She knew exactly what he was capable of.

On the other hand, there was her desire to be a part of the group, to contribute, to pull her own weight. And not just to pull her own weight, but to help these other people, though they had been strangers to her only a few days before. The world had changed, and she could see that this mismatched assortment of people needed to pull together, to help each other, in order to survive. She had always had a soft heart for others, and perhaps because of everything she had been through, she empathized with their needs that much more. Mostly, it made her feel good to think that she might be someone who had something to give, like maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as worthless as she had so often been told, even though she dared not truly believe it.

There weren't so many of them in their camp, but there were enough people that there was always someone who needed help with something. Her husband certainly didn't seem to feel any need to pull his own weight or to be useful whatsoever. He seemed perfectly content to take from the group when it suited him, all the while claiming that they would be perfectly fine on their own, if need be. He was rude and argumentative when anyone approached him, his wife included, and he didn't care what anyone said or thought. She shuddered when he acted that way, embarrassed by his actions but unable to do anything about them. This was what life had turned into.

She'd known after she'd apologized to Shane on her husband's behalf, though she had not used his name, that it had been a mistake. She simply could not let the confrontation, which had resulted from her husband's insistence on keeping the fire burning higher than the group's agreement, go unmentioned. Everyone had agreed that the fires would stay low so that they could not be seen from a distance. It was for the group's safety. But he had argued that it was cold, and he wanted the fire higher. He was not one to compromise when he wanted something. He didn't care about protecting the group, he just wanted what he wanted. Her apology had been an automatic reaction, the result of her desire to keep the peace between her husband and the rest of the group. Not just that though, it came from within her. She was a kind and gentle person. When there was a wrong, she tried to right it, if it was in her power. It was just that simple.

As soon as Shane walked away from the cooling embers of the fire that had been stomped out, she began to tremble, realizing that it was only a matter of time. The lack of privacy out here in the woods, surrounded by strangers, had not deterred her husband's temper. Changed it slightly, yes, made him quieter about it at times, not wanting their business to be public knowledge, but the end result was the same. _If only I'd kept my mouth shut,_ she thought to herself. She knew that he hated it when she apologized to other people for him. She knew this because it was far from being the first time it had happened. His reaction wasn't always the same, but there was always a reaction, sooner or later.

"It's getting late. It's time to go and get some sleep," he hissed at her, leaving no room for argument, and ignoring their daughter as he usually did. He got up and stalked away from the remnants of the fire. She glanced nervously over towards the rest of the group, clustered around the dying light of the main campfire area, to see if any of them had paid any attention to his departure. No one seemed to be looking in her direction. _Good_, she thought. _It's easier that way._ She felt a momentary longing to be in the circle with the others around the low flames, just talking and pretending that their world wasn't in pieces, but she shook it off. He insisted that they keep their distance from the others, so they did.

"Come on, sweetheart," she said gently to her daughter, smoothing her hair with her trembling hand and kissing the top of her head as she stood up. "Let's go get some sleep."

The girl seemed to sense her mother's apprehension. Sadly, none of this was new to her. "Momma?" she asked, looking up at her mother timidly.

"Sssshhh, come on, it'll all be alright," the woman told her. She wondered if her words sounded as hollow in her daughter's ears as they felt when they left her lips, or if her daughter actually believed them. She'd managed to protect the girl from her father so far, no matter what the cost to herself. She put her arm around the twelve year old's skinny shoulders as they trailed reluctantly behind her husband. There was no way to know exactly what to expect from him next, only to hope, however foolishly, that it _would _be alright somehow.

If only she could _believe_ that it would be alright. She'd been telling herself this lie for many years now, and somehow it seemed that instead of getting better, everything had suddenly gotten worse. Still, this was her life now. There were no options, no choices. Just this.

Keep breathing, keep going.

She tried to suppress a sigh as they slowly followed him across the camp. _Please God_, she thought, _please…_ She didn't know how to finish the thought, or even why she was bothering with her plea. She had made the same attempt to pray for help so many times in the past, and it had never done her any good before. On the contrary, the world as they knew it had ended, the dead had begun to attack the living and civilization had fallen apart… It seemed as if the world was only getting worse and worse. And yet even so, she could not help but hope that somehow, some way, something would change for the better. After all, she was still alive, so there was still a chance, however small.

Despite everything, and however foolishly, she had not given up hope.


	2. At All Costs

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead… but sadly I don't.**

**Season 1, episode 3**

**Outside Atlanta, mid-day**

Daryl Dixon had been away from camp since daybreak. He preferred it that way. Though he and his older brother, Merle, had joined up with this group that they had met on the highway, it didn't mean he wanted to spend any more time with them than was necessary. They were just there to see what they could get out of these people, after all. He had never been good around people, so hunting was his excuse to get away from them. They were a bunch of assholes anyway, who needed 'em? Besides, the group needed the food. Their meager supplies wouldn't last forever, and whatever he could catch out there, whether it was squirrel, deer or rabbit, was the only meat they were going to get. The way he saw it, being the hunter of the group was the perfect job for him. He could be part of the group without really having to be part of the group.

He had been out hunting all morning with no luck, which was very rare for him, and extremely frustrating. Being in the woods was the only time he ever really felt at peace, but he wasn't just out there to wander around. Not today, anyway. He was out there to hunt, so the fact that he hadn't caught anything that morning was really pissing him off. As he had been slowly made his way back towards the camp, moving swiftly and silently through the trees, he'd seen the deer. Daryl had tracked it as it moved ahead of him in the general direction of the camp, which was lucky, because he wouldn't have to drag it far once he'd killed it. He'd hit it with arrows a few times, but it hadn't gone down yet.

Suddenly there was a loud noise from somewhere in the trees and the deer bounded off. _Fuck! Was someone screaming? Who the hell was screaming? _It sounded like one of the kids. _Goddamn it_, he thought. _Goddamn fucking kids need to shut the hell up. _He had the urge to punch whoever it was, and was glad that he was still a ways away so that he didn't have to decide whether or not that would be a good idea. _This_ was why he hated people. They were always fucking things up. He'd be exceptionally lucky if that deer hadn't just bolted completely at the noise. Grumbling various curse words about people and their stupidity to himself, he attempted to pick up the deer's trail again.

…

Carol looked up from where she had been washing the dishes. She'd heard screaming that sounded like it had come from the nearby, somewhere across the camp. Wherever it was, it was _much_ too close for comfort. The sound had sounded like a child's scream, and there weren't many kids in the camp. She was about to panic, when suddenly Sophia ran out from between the trees. She ran to Carol, who clutched her tightly. "What happened, baby?" she asked, feeling Sophia gasping to catch her breath. She shuddered to think about what that scream meant, and about what must be happening to have made anyone scream like that. They all knew that loud noises were to be avoided at all costs in this new world.

"It was Carl," Sophia said between ragged breaths. "I didn't see what happened."

"Ssshhhh, OK, it's OK now," Carol told the trembling girl.

Sophia lifted her head, looking around in fear, searching for answers. Carol glanced around nervously too. "I'm sure it's fine, sweetheart," Carol said soothingly. "Something probably startled him." She didn't necessarily believe it herself, but she was trying her best to calm her daughter.

Then there was a new noise, a commotion in the direction that the scream had come from, not screaming this time, but men's raised voices. The voices didn't seem to be angry, exactly, though something was definitely going on. There was no way to see what it was from where they were though. She didn't hear Ed's voice, which made her glance around once again nervously. She wondered if he was about to appear beside her out of nowhere, as he often did.

Suddenly there was a loud and chillingly familiar crackling of leaves behind them. Carol froze and closed her eyes, almost certain of who it was. The voice she heard next confirmed what she had known.

"Carol!" Ed bellowed harshly, and he was beside her in what felt like an instant. Just as quickly, Sophia had detangled herself from her mother's arms and backed away, putting space between her father and herself. Carol's eyes snapped open but she stared straight ahead, her body remaining rigid. She tried to keep the expression on her face blank, tried not to show the fear that she felt, hoped that he couldn't see her tremble. Sophia didn't take her eyes off of her parents. She had to be sure her mother was alright – not that she could have done anything to help her if she wasn't – and she didn't dare to run away from her father.

Ed hadn't touched Carol, but he stood only inches from her, glaring down at her menacingly, close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheek. "I don't know what those damn fools have gotten up to, but you're not getting yourself involved. You got that?" he whisper harshly in her ear. She hadn't turned her body towards him, but she turned her head slightly to look into his eyes for just a split second before turning away, nodding sheepishly. He was right, of course. It was better not to get involved in whatever was going on. There were plenty of others in the camp to handle it. What good what it have done for _her_ to get involved anyway? They didn't need her.

"Let's go. C'mon back inside the RV. We ain't getting mixed up in whatever those dumb hillbillies are doing over there." He turned and stomped back through the trees.

Carol felt momentary relief that he was no longer standing beside her, but knowing that she was expected to follow him, and that she would then be cramped inside the RV with him for an indefinite amount of time before she'd find an excuse to escape to the freedom of the camp again… that knowledge, that feeling of suffocating, was nearly as bad. There was no escape… there never would be.

She tried to arrange her face into a smile before she looked at Sophia, whose face, as it usually did when her father was around, had turned pale and frightened. She knew that the girl could see through it, but still, it was a game that they played, so she did her part. Slowly, she reached out her hand to Sophia, the only pinpoint of light in her life. The girl ran to her, looking as resigned and frightened as Carol felt, and took her hand with a squeeze. The two reluctantly followed the crunching of the leaves marking Ed's stomping footsteps across camp, both burning with curiosity to know exactly what the commotion had been about, and both dreading going back into the RV.

Before stepping up into the vehicle, Carol turned and craned her neck one more time to try to see something that would give a clue as to what had gone on, but there was nothing to be seen through the thick foliage. She trudged slowly up the few steps, followed closely by Sophia, and braced herself for whatever would come next.

…

Daryl inspected the ground closely and picked up the deer's trail again, moving silently and attempting to catch up with the animal again before it got too far ahead of him. That deer would make a much better meal that a few damn squirrels.

There was something different about the forest now, though. He couldn't quite identify it, but he heard an unfamiliar sound, one that hadn't been there a few minutes before. He paused, his crossbow at the ready, and listened. There was so much to be learned from just stopping to listen. Most people didn't understand that. The way they yammered on most of the time gave Daryl a headache. He'd never really known anyone who had anything to say that he had wanted to hear. Not since his mother had died, anyway. No, it was far better here in the woods where there was no one to disturb him.

Then he heard other voices, probably the men in the camp coming to investigate what that goddamn kid had been screaming about. _Fuck_, he thought again,_ just fucking perfect._ He gave up on walking silently for the last few yards, since it was so clear that no one else was attempting to stay quiet, so when he came out of the trees where the others were standing, they were all looking at him, ready to attack if he had been a walker or other threat.

What he saw in front of him explained what the screaming had been about. Laying on the ground in front of him was the deer he had been tracking, with several of his arrows sticking out of it as well as a large chunk chewed out of the throat. He immediately felt his anger flare up. Beside it he saw a walker, who laid beaten and beheaded.

_Goddamn it_, he thought. _What a fucking waste._


	3. None of It

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead… but sadly I don't.**

**Season 1, somewhere between episodes 3 and 4**

**Outside Atlanta, mid –day**

Carol was devastated. The whole episode down at the quarry had been horrifying for all of them. Ed had been behaving in his usual, rude and ignorant manner. Carol would have been happy to just brush it off and have gone with him, as he'd demanded. It would have saved everyone the drama of Ed's temper, and Carol knew it. Andrea had been the one to speak up first. Of the four women who had been doing laundry, Andrea was by far the most outspoken. When Ed had tried to remove Carol from the group, Andrea had not been afraid to tell him exactly what she'd thought of him.

Ed did not appreciate the way the blonde had spoken to him, and that's when things had gotten ugly. Luckily for the women, Shane had been nearby, and it had taken him only a few minutes to reduce Ed to a bloody mess. It had all happened right before of all of their eyes. Though Shane may have gone overboard, it seemed as though if he hadn't been there to knock Ed down, Ed may very well have inflicted some serious damage on Carol, or even the other women. Really, there was no guarantee that Ed wouldn't punish Carol for it in the future, despite Shane's threat to hurt him even worse if he did.

Afterwards, Shane and a few of the other guys had gotten Ed back to the family's tent, with Ed cursing at them the whole way. Dale had scavenged enough medical supplies from the group's meager collection to allow Carol to clean up Ed's face. She insisted on being the one to do it, though Lori sat in the doorway of the tent, wanting to ensure that her friend wasn't hurt any further. He lay sullenly on the ground, refusing to speak to anyone. Carol could feel his anger seething below the surface as she sat beside him to clean the blood from his face, and she dared not risk doing anything that would unleash that anger. She knew it all too well.

She knew that the other women – Andrea, Amy and Jacqui – had been trying to stand up for her. Along with Lori, they were about the closest thing she had friends since the world ended. Hell, they were just about the closest thing she'd had to friends since long _before_ the world ended. She knew that they had been trying to help her. She also knew that they had risked making things much worse. Because whenever _anyone_ called Ed out on his behavior, Carol ended up being the one to suffer. He always took it out on her. He would sometimes even come after her if he was angry about other things, things that had nothing to do with her.

She sat on a log near the tent her family shared, and could not stop shaking. As badly as Ed treated her on a daily basis, this was not what she wanted for him. She wanted him to _stop_, yes, but not for him to be hurt like this. _But why not?_ she asked herself. Hadn't he done things like this to her many times? Absolutely, he had. She felt dizzy from trying to figure it all out. She put her head in her hands, leaning forward and waiting for the dizziness to pass. She tried to take deep breaths as she sat there, but it was so hard to focus on anything.

One part of her brain rationally understood what had happened. The other women had been standing up for her, something she never seemed to be able to do for herself. She wanted to, but she didn't want to all at the same time. It was better if she didn't, she told herself. It was safer for her, since it would only be worse if she tried anything. And she could never know if he would have taken things out on Sophia. To her, it was not worth it to take that risk. At the same time, she had so appreciated having people standing up for her. She felt unworthy of their help but simultaneously grateful to them all, especially Shane.

And yet, the other part of her brain was furious with Shane. She was the most grateful to him, but also so angry with him. What was going on was none of his business. Ed was her _husband_. He wasn't perfect, but Shane had kept punching long after he was on the ground. There was no reason for that. He hadn't been endangering her or anyone else once he had pulled him away from the group of women and thrown him on the ground. It just hadn't been necessary. Or had it been? Was that the only way to send a message to Ed that his behavior was unacceptable? Surely not… Would Shane have argued that the message would not have been received if he had been less forceful? She felt dizzy again, and forced herself to stop the path that her brain was following.

Lori came and sat beside her. She put a hand gently on her shoulder. "Carol, have a drink of water," the other woman said to her gently. Carol took her head out of her hands and sat up only enough to sip from the water bottle that Lori had handed to her. She tried to hand it back to her. "Keep it," Lori told her. "You need to drink something."

Carol sat the bottle on the ground by her feet, putting her head back down in her hands. Lori sat with her for a while, watching Carl and Sophia play what looked like soccer with Shane and one of the other girls in the camp. Shane and the kids weren't close enough to hear their conversation, but they were close enough that she could see them and know they were safe. Eventually, Lori cleared her throat quietly. "It's not your fault you know," she told the woman beside her. Carol tried to choke back a sob, but failed. "Carol, it's not your fault. None of it." Lori heard Carol start to cry then, and she reached her arm around her friend's shoulders. "Ssssshhhhh," she said soothingly. Carol let her head lean against Lori's shoulder. They sat there like that for a while. There wasn't much else to say for now.

Eventually, Carol's brain started working again. Most of the afternoon was a blur. She didn't really remember coming back up from the quarry, and had only a vague memory of cleaning the cuts on Ed's face before she had come back out and sat herself on the log. That was when she had started thinking. Thinking was dangerous, and usually she avoided thinking too much about her life whenever possible. Her brain had gone to a scary place, one that was just too confusing. Too painful. Too much. She looked up to see Amy now sitting beside her, watching the others in the camp go about their business. As Carol looked up, the other girl turned and smiled at her shyly. They didn't know each other well, and Amy was a good deal younger, but the women in the camp had quickly bonded since they had been thrown together in this new world.

"Hey," Amy said tentatively. "How are you feeling?"

Carol tried to smile at the girl, but she was pretty sure the signal from her brain didn't reach her mouth. "A little better, I guess," Carol sighed. She picked up the water bottle that she had left by her feet earlier, and took a sip. She leaned forward, holding the bottle and looking out at the camp. She suddenly realized that she couldn't see Sophia. Sitting straight up, she craned her neck back and forth, almost frantically. Amy saw the sudden change in her, and realized who she was probably looking for.

"Are you looking for Sophia? She's with Andrea, Lori and Carl. I think they're working on dinner." Amy saw Carol visibly relax, leaning forward the way she had been just seconds before.

After a minute, Carol started to stand up, saying "I should go and help them…" Amy put a hand on her arm to stop her.

"Nope, Andrea said to tell you that they have it covered. You're taking the day off." Amy smiled as she saw the older woman's look of surprise, almost confusion. "You do so much for us every day. Too much even. It's about time you had a break." Amy looked at Carol and smiled again.

_What have I ever done to deserve such kindness? _Carol thought. _I don't deserve _it. She was truly touched, though she didn't feel like she had done anything to warrant such generosity. She felt exhausted from the drama of the day, and could not remember the last time she felt like someone cared about her as much as she did at that moment. She returned Amy's smile weakly, taking another sip of water and letting go of a breath she hadn't realized that she was holding.

It was as if someone had relit a flame that she had thought was long since extinguished, even if it was with only the tiniest spark.


	4. Walking Back

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead. I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Author's Note: Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited and followed this story so far. I'm more appreciative of your feedback than I can tell you, and I'm so happy that you're enjoying it. I'm pretty sure my husband is getting ready to stage a Walking Dead/Fanfic intervention for me, but I don't care. **

**Season 1, episode 4**

**Atlanta, late afternoon**

Daryl, Rick and T-Dog had managed to free Glenn from the group who had taken him by force during the skirmish in the street. Both groups had eventually come to understand that really, they were all just trying to survive and protect their own people – but only after narrowly avoiding a major bloodbath, thanks mostly to Felipe's grandmother. Because of the delay, it was later than they had anticipated when they returned to the place along the railroad tracks where they had left the truck. Except that to their dismay, they found no sign of it.

Suddenly, Daryl's seething rage, which had been barely contained all day, threatened to boil over all over again. Not only had they _not_ found Merle, but now they would have to _walk _back to the camp!

As the rest of the group wondered aloud if Merle had perhaps found and taken the truck, and was driving it, pissed off as all hell, back to their camp, Daryl couldn't help but think to himself that this was all the fault of the assholes he was with. Who the fuck did they think they were, handcuffing his brother on a roof and LEAVING him there? Sure, Merle could be a goddamn pain in the ass, but who were they to decide to restrain him, and _how dare they_ leave him there to die?

No one could really guess how likely it was that Merle was the one who had taken the truck. Sure, there weren't _LOTS _of people in Atlanta, at least that they knew of, but they now knew of one group, so there could be others. What were the chances that another group of people had just _happened_ upon the truck that they had parked there earlier that same day? It was impossible to know for sure. They took off towards the camp at a brisk walk, the fastest pace they could maintain while carrying their gear.

Merle knew where their camp was, of course, and they had found every indication that he could very well still be alive. At least, they had found no evidence suggesting that he was dead. The possibility that Merle was alive and heading for their camp, possibly to seek revenge for being left behind, was chilling, especially because he wouldn't find Daryl there if he were to be already on his way there. The thought was especially frightening to Rick, who couldn't stand the idea of anything happening to Lori and Carl after he had _just_ found them again.

Daryl was so pissed off right then, he would have liked nothing more than to shoot all three of his current companions between the eyes with his crossbow right then and there. The more he thought about the whole thing, the more pissed off he got. If he thought he could've gotten away with shooting them all without getting _himself_ killed, he may have tried. However, it didn't seem like a fight he could necessarily win. Besides that, he'd never been one to go out of his way to hurt people, not before the world had recently turned upside down. Yes, he had a bad temper and was stubborn and hell and no, he wasn't good with people, but given what he had suffered growing up, it was unlikely he'd actually have shot them, at least not if he'd had a few minutes to think about it first. In any case, he decided to focus his energy on getting back to camp, just hoping that at some point he would learn that Merle was alright. He was an asshole, but he'd been the only family Daryl had in the world for a long time.

They took off towards the camp at a brisk walk, the fastest pace they could maintain while carrying their gear. Along the way, Rick kept glancing at Daryl, who was looking more and more pissed off the longer they walked. It was understandable, in his situation. Still, Rick wondered just how long it would be before Daryl lost his temper, how bad it would be when he did, and who it would be directed at. He'd only just met the man, but he could see that his anger wasn't far below the surface. Daryl was muttering under his breath, and Rick and the others could make out only a word here and there… among them were mostly words that would not have been suitable if there'd been any children around.

Rick felt responsible for what had happened to Merle, and felt like he should be the one to say _something_ to his brother. He matched his pace to Daryl's and attempted briefly to make conversation. "Daryl, I…" was as far as he got.

Daryl cut him off almost immediately. "Don't wanna talk to none of y'all assholes. Ya did what ya did. Ain't gonna convince me it was right, so jus' leave me the hell alone." Rick nodded at him and fell back a few paces to give him some space. Maybe he'd try again later, but it was obvious that nothing he said right now was going to make things any better.

The group walked in silence, concentrating their energy on keeping their pace as quick as they could while feeling the weight of the gear they carried seem to increase as the afternoon wore on. They kept on this way for what seemed like hours, as the sun got lower and lower in the sky. The men knew that they needed to try to make it back to camp before they lost the light completely, and they kept moving as quickly as they could.

They were probably a few miles from camp when T-Dog started falling behind the group. He was breathing a little bit heavier than he had been earlier. "Hey," he panted quietly to the others, "could we… ya know… take a break real quick? Just stop for a minute or two?"

Daryl's anger, which had continued to simmer all day, suddenly boiled over. He wheeled around to look at T-Dog, but didn't slow his pace. "A break?" he hissed, "What do you think, we have all night? You wanna be walkin' back to camp in just the goddamn moonlight?" Daryl looked like he was about to punch T-Dog in the face, or possibly reconsider his decision _not _to shoot him with his crossbow.

Rick stepped between the two before anything happened, holding out a hand in Daryl's direction and looking from one to the other. "If anything," he said in a low voice, "I think we need to go faster. I don't like it out here. I have a bad feeling… like something's off. And Daryl's right, we don't want to be walking back in the dark if we can avoid it." They all realized at this point that it was _already _dark, and that they'd feel a lot better once they got back to their group safely.

It was just then that they heard a bloodcurdling scream, one at first, followed by others, echoing across the hills. They looked at each other then and started running, afraid of what they would find but desperate to get back to camp and find out what was going on.


	5. Gone

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead. I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Season 1, somewhere between episodes 4 and 5**

**Outside Atlanta, night into early morning**

That night had been like a nightmare, and the entire group – what was _left_ of the group, that is – was all pretty traumatized. It had all gone wrong so quickly. One minute they were enjoying the dim light of a small campfire, the taste of the fish that Andrea and Amy had caught earlier that day and that Carol had prepared, and each other's company. They had somehow managed to momentarily put out of their minds that their worlds had crumbled around them not long before, and they were living amid constant danger with little to no shelter or supplies. For just a moment, everything seemed like it might just be OK.

And then just as suddenly as that moment arrived, it had vanished. Without warning, walkers had invaded their camp, overrun it under the cover of darkness. There had been fatalities… too many. Amy had been the first – or at least, hers had been the first scream that they'd heard, followed closely by others. Their peaceful, quiet night had suddenly turned into a nightmare. It would be a long, long time before they would stop associating quiet nights with impending danger.

The four men who had gone to Atlanta to search for Merle had returned, though without Merle, just as the walkers were overrunning the camp and just in time to help fight back their attackers. When it was over, those who were left had huddled by the firepit, working together to keep watch in all directions at once. Suddenly, they couldn't be too careful.

Late that night, once order had been restored, head counts had been done and the threat from the walkers had passed, Rick had come to tell Carol that Ed had been one of the ones who'd been attacked, and that he hadn't survived. She had been too stunned to react. She had sank quietly to the ground where she stood and stared at her hands. Rick had knelt down next to her, asking if she was alright, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. There was concern in his eyes. He had only known this woman for a short time, and hadn't had many opportunities to talk to her, but his had always been his least favorite part of his job in his former life. Delivering the news that someone had passed away. The fact that he had done it many times had never made it easier.

Carol had just nodded mutely, and he had withdrawn to tend to the many, many other urgent issues in the camp. Sophia had been standing nearby with Carl and Lori, and she had rushed to her mother to see what was wrong. She'd sat down beside her on the ground, had taken Carol's hand in her own small one.

"Momma…?" she had whispered.

Carol had to force the carefully world from her lips. In a whisper that matched her daughter's, she said, "Sophia, your father… he's gone. Some walkers got into the tent, and… he's gone." There wasn't much else to say.

Sophia had sat in silence for a moment, looking at her mother, taking in what Carol had just said. Carol was surprised that she hadn't reacted at all, but then, she had always been afraid to react when her father was around, afraid that any kind of response at all would set him off somehow. As she watched her daughter sit looking back at her, she saw tears forming, though her face remained expressionless. It was as if Sophia was afraid to move, lest she break some sort of spell.

"Really?" Sophia had whispered. "Are you sure?" Carol had just nodded. That's when Sophia's expression had changed. She wasn't smiling, exactly, but she looked relieved, much like the way Carol didn't want to admit that she felt. She realized then that her daughter's tears hadn't been caused by sadness. "Then he can't hurt you anymore, momma," the girl whispered.

"No baby, he can't," she whispered, pulling her daughter into a tight embrace.

That long night, Carol held Sophia close, as did Lori with Carl, on the cold, hard ground. Their backs leaned against the logs the encircled the glowing embers of the firepit. Eventually their children's heads moved to their laps as they drifted off to sleep. The children were the _only_ ones who slept at all that night. The adults remained awake and waited for the sun to reappear on the horizon, to bring an end to the terrible darkness of that night and with it, a new day.

As the hours passed and Carol stared into the glow of what had been a fire, she had mixed emotions for what had taken place that night. She felt terrified of the walkers, now having seen first-hand how they could so easily destroy what little security they had established in their camp. She felt frightened that she did not know how to protect Sophia in this new, unfamiliar world. She felt compassion for all of the others in the camp who had lost so much, whether that night or in recent days.

But for herself, Carol felt no pain, no sadness, not even fear – not for her _own_ safety. On the contrary, she felt safer than she had in as long as she could remember. Since before she and Ed had been married. What's more, she felt suddenly weightless. It was as though a chain that had bound her tightly for so long had suddenly disappeared. She felt… free.

It didn't seem possible. What was the appropriate reaction in this situation? There wasn't exactly anything in her years of experience that could have prepared her for where she now found herself. How could she, as a compassionate human being, feel so elated in the face of such tragedy? It seemed like a betrayal to the rest of the group, to her own humanity even. She didn't smile outwardly. No, that would have been wrong. It was certainly not a day for happiness.

But inside her, that small spark had just grown into small bonfire. For the first time in as long as she could remember, there was nothing stopping her from having hope. After all, she was free. She had never, in all the years of her marriage, allowed herself to believe that this day would come. As far as she was concerned, the end of the world hadn't been the end. It seemed to her that suddenly, it was only the beginning.

…

Daryl had not slept that night. No one had, except the kids. The adults who were still alive had been by the fire but facing away from it, looking out into the darkness. Watching. Unable to let down their guards after so much tragedy. So much bloodshed.

It had all happened so fast. He had been angry the entire way back from Atlanta. He remembered wanting to shoot all three of his companions with his crossbow. And then suddenly, just before they had reached camp, everything had changed. The first scream that they had heard – which turned out to be Amy, the younger of the two blondes – had shattered his simple anger and turned the night upside down. Suddenly, he was a part of the group, fighting with them against the walking dead. The "walkers," as the people in the camp called them. Whatever they were called, a herd of them had wandered into the camp with no warning. It had been horrible, and they had almost been too late.

_If we had just been a little faster,_ Daryl told himself. _If only those damn Vatos hadn't kidnapped Glenn and made them waste time negotiating for his release. If only they'd found Merle still handcuffed on the roof, and not had to spend time tracking him. If only that asshole T-Dog (what he fuck kinda name was T-Dog, anyway?) hadn't dropped the handcuff key down a fuckin drain. Hell, if he was wishing, then how about if only those goddamn sons of bitches hadn't handcuffed his brother to the roof in the first place. They wouldn't have had to go any-fucking-where and they would've been in the camp when the walkers showed up in the first place. Would that have stopped what happened? _

Of course it was impossible to say for sure. But the what if's were driving him crazy. He couldn't shut his mind off. OK, so Merle's original plan had been to see what they could get out of these people and then get the hell out of there, but Daryl hadn't accepted that plan. Not really. He followed Merle, because it was what he did. He had always followed Merle. He had no one else in the world. Never had. But he knew that he couldn't do what Merle was telling him they were going to do. He would just up and walk away before he'd actively, purposely steal from these strangers, who had been nothing but good to the Dixons, if maybe a little bit suspicious of them. At least that's what he _told _himself. Again, who really knew what would have happened? He was glad that it hadn't come to that, but… what it _had_ come to, well, there were no words for this.

The point was, that none of those "what-if's" _had_ happened, and now all of a sudden there was no Merle, there was just Daryl. This group of people, well OK yeah, they seemed to be assholes as much as the next group of people he might hope to run into out there, but he didn't figure he wanted to strike out on his own. Not just as yet, anyway. Where the hell did he have to _go_? Nowhere, that's where. The world seemed to have ended and he had no-fucking-where to go. May as well stay here with these assholes, at least for now, rather than go out and look for new assholes to hang around. They annoyed the shit out of him, but they weren't _bad people_, least not far as he could tell. He had just never had any use for _any_ people… just like nobody had ever had any use for him. That was just how life worked, in his experience.

The sun was slowly coming up by the time his mind settled down enough to allow him look around at the group of people around him, all wearing similarly shell-shocked and exhausted expressions. These were going to be the people that he knew now, at least for the time being. It wasn't like before, and it wasn't ever going to be again. He was going to need to try to get along with these people, at least some of the time. This was a very new concept to him, and he immediately felt closed in by it, despite being outdoors. He had trained himself never to need anyone, because there had never been anyone in his life that he _could_ need. Nothing good had ever come of needing anyone. So the fact that he knew he was going to have to deal with these people… he started getting pissed off just thinking about it. Anger was his default emotion.

He walked towards Rick, who was standing at the edge of the clearing, looking through the trees in the direction of the sunrise. "Gonna check the perimeter, 'n gonna try 'n catch somethin' fer breakfast," Daryl growled at him as he walked by. He turned around to see Rick nod at him, but said nothing.

Daryl stalked off into the woods, the place where he felt most at home, and was gone from the group's sight.


	6. Water

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead. I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Season 1, episode 5**

**Outside Atlanta, mid-day**

It was another scorching day, and there was still much to be done to clean up from the previous night. The sooner those bodies, walker and non-walker alike, were out of their sight, the better everyone would feel.

Carol had tried her best to help around the camp all morning. She made breakfast for the group, as she'd been doing nearly every day since they'd settled there. She looked after Carl, Sophia and the few other kids in the camp, as she always did, preferring to have Sophia within her sight anyway. She'd been trying to make sure that the men all had some water from their meager supply as they worked on moving and "taking care of" the dead. Whether those dead were being burned or buried depended on whether they had been walkers or their victims. She needed to keep busy. It was how she had always coped. Yes, with Ed gone she felt free, but that was at once exhilarating and terrifying. For now, she just had to keep moving.

The sun wasn't quite at its highest point of the day, but already its heat was blistering. As she moved about her self-appointed duties, she silently wished for sunblock, air conditioning and ice cream, but dispelled these wishes quickly, preferring not to focus on luxuries that she would probably never have again. She was sweaty, dirty and exhausted, and felt every bit of it… but she and her daughter were alive, and her husband was not. That was worth all of the ice cream that may once have been in the world.

As she walked around the camp in her quest to be useful, she slowed to a stop. Not far away, she saw Daryl, pick axe in hand, swinging it down into the heads of the dead. She wasn't sure why, but she stood and watched as he did this several times without even realizing it. This was a truly gruesome job, and she wondered if it bothered him. She knew he had experience with hunting, but this was a totally different thing. These were, or had been at one time, human beings… and this wasn't something he was doing in order to feed the group, like skinning animals that he had caught. No, smashing a pick axe into a human skull couldn't possibly be a pleasant job to have. She wondered exactly how _he_ felt about having to do it, and she was grateful that it wasn't _her_ job.

Her breath caught when she looked down at the bodies that still remained in front of him. Somehow, though there wasn't much left of it, she recognized one of the bodies as Ed. He had treated her like dirt for as long as they had been married, had ruined her self-confidence, physically and mentally abused her… he had just generally been a terrible human being. Maybe there _was_ some small bit of justice in the world after all, because in the end he had met a truly horrifying end. But then again, the same thing had happened to so had so many others who _hadn't _deserved it.

She felt the tears stinging her eyes before she even realized that she was crying. She wasn't sure who the tears were for, her husband, the path her life had taken, or the many, many other victims. It was possible that they were there for all of these reasons.

All morning long, Daryl had been helping to "take care of" the bodies of those who hadn't survived the walker attack the night before – right now, he was "taking care of" them with a pick axe through the head – a job that he didn't particularly enjoy, but one that he knew had to be done. He knew that life was full of unpleasant things that had to be done nonetheless, so he did them and tried not to dwell on it. The sooner he got it over with, the sooner it would be done and he could move on to something else. It was that simple. He was definitely looking forward to _not _being covered in the remains that splattered him when the pick axe punctured the bodies before him. Best to get it over with.

He was engrossed in his task, so he didn't even notice Carol walking towards him. He didn't realize that she'd been watching him from a short distance away. Suddenly she was just there beside him, staring down at the mangled corpse that he noticed, upon closer inspection, had been her husband. Looking back at her, he noticed that she was as sweaty and dirty as he was, her once white shirt no longer resembling its original color and the tears that were falling down her cheeks leaving streaks in the dirt on her face. And yet, even in tears, she looked… what was it? He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he found that he didn't mind her standing there next to him – which confused him, because he had wanted nothing to do with _any_ of the members of the camp – "those assholes," as he had been referring to all of them in his head – since he had arrived. There was just something about her, and it wasn't just that he hated to see _any_ woman cry, though he did.

_But why was she crying? _He wondered why she would cry over the loss of someone who had been so horrible to her, even if he _had_ died in such a gruesome way. He knew that _he_ sure wouldn't have spilled any tears if it had been his father. The bastard had deserved that and more.

"I'll do it. He's my husband," she said to him quietly through her tears. As far as she was concerned, it seemed only right that it be her that swung the pick axe. Her responsibility as well as her right.

He looked at her and silently handed over the large tool. He wondered if she'd even be able to lift it high enough to use it. She had a small frame, and he imagined that the cruelty of her life even before all this insanity, the walkers and all that came with it, with an abusive husband and a daughter to whom she seemed to devote her every breath, hadn't left her much time to take care of herself. She certainly didn't _look_ very strong. He was surprised when she raised the pick axe in the air, rested it on her shoulder for a minute, and then brought it crashing down into the skull of the man who must have been a monster to her for so long. Not just once, which was all that was necessary, but again and again and again. She cried harder with each blow, as if releasing something that had been pent up for far too long.

When her strength gave out, she stood panting from the exertion, still sobbing. She leaned against the pick axe's handle for a moment before handing it back to Daryl, feeling both relief and disgust at the same time. He looked her in the eye and gave the slightest of nods. All she could do in return was to purse her lips ever so slightly before she stumbled away. Though he had been focusing on pick axing and not actually moving the bodies up til now, Daryl dragged Ed's now destroyed body to the pile of those to be buried, which was further out of sight. He couldn't quite explain what compelled him to do it, except that he figured that if she came back that way she'd probably rather not look at it again. And he definitely preferred not to see her cry again if there was anything he could do to prevent it.

Once Ed had been moved from view, Daryl finished "taking care of" the remaining dead. With help from Morales, he loaded them into the truck to haul them down to where Rick and Shane were working on burying them, once they had finished digging the graves. He had heard Glenn insisting that "their people" be buried, though given the choice, he would have burned Ed's body along with the walkers. That man had had no right to call himself a human being.

Turning toward his former "work station," which was now clear of bodies to be pick axed, he saw that Carol had perched herself on the edge of the red sports car that Glenn had driven back from Atlanta, which sat not far from there. The car had now been stripped for parts for their other vehicles, so it was now a fixture of the camp, and not going anywhere. Carol was staring out towards the forest, towards nothing, really. He realized that it had been a while since he had seen her little girl, Sophia, attached to her mother's hip, and he looked around until he saw her at the far end of the clearing, near Lori and deep in conversation with Carl.

Next he walked to the makeshift kitchen area to see if there was any water that had already been boiled, just to be sure it was safe. He found one small bottle, about half full, and was considering whether to dump it over his head or drink it, when he had another thought. He turned around slowly and looked back at where Carol was sitting. She had now sunk to the ground beside the red car, sitting in the small amount of shade to be found there. She had hugged her knees to her chest, and her forehead rested between her knees. Not knowing what compelled him to do so, he strode slowly towards her. He wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do, but he figured that she probably hadn't thought to drink any water _herself_ that morning, though she had made the rounds to everyone else several times each.

Carol heard footsteps in the dirt behind her. She wondered, if she ignored them, if the owner of those footsteps would just go away. She felt too exhausted to even lift her head. She heard the feet shuffling beside her and after a moment, based on the scratching of the dirt and the rush of air against her bare arm, she realized that that person had not gone away. On the contrary, they had sat down next to her. She resigned herself to the fact that should would have to lift her head.

Daryl wasn't sure what to do to get Carol's attention. He figured she probably wasn't asleep in that position, but that it definitely seemed like she wanted to be left alone. He could relate to that, since it's how he felt most of the time himself. Still, he had seen this woman work all morning in the hot sun, helping everyone else, and she was going to need water if she was going to keep going. Seemed like no one else had even noticed. He wasn't quite sure why _he_ had noticed. He just knew that ever since he realized what kind of a man her husband had been – it had been pretty clear to everyone in the camp – it had eaten at him that he couldn't do anything to help. Of course it had, considering it was so similar to his experience with his own father growing up. But now, her abusive husband was gone, and there was nothing stopping him from lending a hand. The problem was just figuring out how to go about doing that. He shuffled awkwardly for a few minutes before sitting down next to her in the dirt.

Lifting her head, Carol had expected to see Lori or one of the other women having come to check on her. She was surprised when she opened her eyes and it was Daryl sitting beside her. She couldn't remember the two of them having had a whole conversation even once since they'd been in the camp together, so she wondered what he was doing here. She attempted a smile, but her mouth only turned up ever so slightly. "Hi Daryl," she whispered, her voice hoarse from both crying and dehydration.

Daryl didn't know exactly what to say or do. Just coming over here was already way out of character for him. He was glad that she wasn't crying anymore, but she looked… defeated. It was almost worse than the tears. "I, uh, brought ya some water. You been out in the sun givin it to everyone else. You gotta have some too," he said awkwardly, holding out the bottle to her. She took it, and this time she did smile at him. He couldn't help but think that he'd never seen anyone smile and yet look so damn sad at the same time.

She wanted to thank him, but the words were stuck in her throat. It was true, she hadn't had anything to drink that morning. Despite how dehydrated she felt, it hadn't occurred to her that she needed water. Honestly, she hadn't even noticed. She was dumbstruck that _Daryl_ had noticed. Carol had been told many times over the years that she saw the good in everyone, no matter if it was there or not. According to Ed, that had made her "a goddamn fool," who was sure to be taken advantage of. Despite this, she had always maintained that there had to be goodness in everyone, it was just a matter of how deep it was buried, and how hard you had to look to find it. Of course, her husband had challenged this theory with his cruelty. However, there were times when she had managed to convince herself that even _he_ had a spark of goodness in him, however small and hard to find. This was the extent of her faith in people.

It had been so long since _anyone_ had shown her kindness, with the exception of Sophia, of course, that when presented with that half full bottle of warm water, she simply did not know how to express her gratitude. She could not have been more surprised if someone had tied a ribbon around the moon and pulled it down to Earth for her. She looked at him, biting her lip, because she was sure that she was about to cry again. Sure enough, she felt the familiar sting of tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She tried to hide this by looking away from him, towards the woods in front of them, and unscrewing the top of the bottle. She took a small sip, and could not remember any water ever tasting so good. She took a few more small sips before replacing the cap. She looked back at him gratefully, and held the bottle out to him.

"Thanks so much, Daryl," she said in a tired voice, "that was just what I needed."

Daryl looked at her like she was crazy. "Ya gotta drink more'n that! That water's for _you_, ya know!" She looked a little startled, like she was about to protest, but the stern look on his face made her change her mind. She put the bottle down next to her, and hugged her knees to her chest again.

"Well, thank you. You didn't have to do that." She didn't feel the tears in her eyes anymore, but she was pretty sure that the small smile on her lips didn't reach her eyes. Still, at least she wasn't crying in front of him, again. She hated to feel so weak.

Daryl couldn't think of what else to do or say, so he abruptly stood up, mumbling, "I gotta get back to work," before he strode across the camp to where Rick and Shane were having some sort of heated discussion. Sighing, Carol pushed herself wearily off the ground, reminding herself that she needed to be useful so that she didn't become a burden to the group. She dusted herself off and picked up the water bottle, looking at it in awe. It was possibly the greatest, most thoughtful gift she had ever been given.


	7. Claustrophobic

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead. I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Season 1, episode 6**

**Center for Disease Control, Atlanta, GA **

**Afternoon**

Just when they had thought that there was no one at the CDC after all, the doors had opened. The man who had met them inside the doors had pointed a gun at them, but he had then allowed them to come in as long as they submitted to a blood test. They would have agreed to a lot more than that in order to get in at that point. Once they were inside, Dr. Jenner took them into the CDC complex, which was like an underground maze. Carol had watched the elevator display with trepidation. As Dr. Jenner walked them down a long hallway to the rooms where they would sleep, she had asked him the question that had taken over her mind.

"Are we underground?" She was fairly sure they were, and she didn't want him to confirm it… but at the same time, she _had_ to know.

"Are you claustrophobic?" he had asked her.

"A little." That might have been an understatement.

"Try not to think about it." That was Dr. Jenner's advice.

That was when Carol began to shake. It was only a little at first, but the longer they stayed there, the more she could feel it effecting her. The more she tried not to think about it, the more she thought about it. While it was true, when faced with either walkers or being underground, being underground seemed safer in theory… still, she couldn't dispel the panic she felt.

Daryl had heard Carol ask Jenner if they were underground, and then admit to being claustrophobic. He wasn't crazy about being underground either. Something about it was just… unnatural. People weren't supposed to live underground. He dreaded being stuck inside the building with all of these people. He didn't mind them _quite_ as much as he had at first – he'd at least stopped calling _most_ of them "assholes" in his head – but there'd be no heading out into the woods to get away from them as long as they stayed here. There'd be no heading _anywhere._ He chewed anxiously on his thumbnail, uncomfortable just thinking about it.

The group had settled into the rooms along the long straight hallway, where they enjoyed not only the lights and air conditioning, but most blissfully, the chance to take hot showers. One by one, they each did, and the feeling of being clean was something like heaven. This combined with the delicious dinner they were able to make with the supplies in the CDC kitchen – by far the best meal they'd had since they'd known each other – helped the group as a whole relax dramatically, at least for as long as they could keep their minds from going to what came next.

Daryl had had quite a bit to drink that evening – lots of them had. He had started out with the wine bottle in front of him, ready to pour it into glasses, but there were many open bottles and no one had needed any when he picked it up… so he just held onto it, drinking straight from the opening. He wasn't an alcoholic like his father had been, but he'd definitely done his share of drinking in the past. He didn't mind the taste, and it quickly helped him relax a little from the stress of being underground and so closed in with so many people. He'd eventually stumbled back to his room and passed out.

Carol, while she relished the feeling of having had a shower and a good meal for the first time in so long, could not relax. She'd had just a little bit of wine. She'd never been much of a drinker, and hated the thought of not being alert enough to watch out for Sophia. Perhaps surprisingly, she hadn't gotten any more anxious after Shane's insistence on breaking the tranquility of their meal to ask Dr. Jenner about the realities of what was happening there, though that had indeed happened mid-way through dinner. She just could not relax knowing that they were trapped underground, their rooms reminding her of giant coffins. That night, long after Sophia had drifted off to sleep, Carol lay tossing and turning on the cot nearby.

Finally, she decided that she couldn't lie there another second. The room had slowly been feeling smaller and smaller and her anxiety was only increasing as she tried to convince herself to sleep. It was ironic, she thought to herself, how much better she had slept on the cold, hard, dirt in a cramped tent than here on a soft mattress. She decided that she needed to get up and move and hopefully find something to distract herself enough to let her fall asleep. Groaning slightly as her tired body protested the movement, she stood up and stretched, grabbing a robe that she'd found among the clothes that their host had offered them. She scribbled a note for Sophia on a scrap of paper that she found on a side table, on the off chance that she woke up, the slipped out the door into the hall.

The hallway was quiet. It had been so long since she'd spent a night indoors, she had almost forgotten what it felt like. Still, being underground was far, far different than being in a house. True, life in her house had been terrifying for a different set of reasons, and if given the choice, she wasn't sure which one she preferred. Truth be told, she was _almost_ missing life back at the camp in the woods that they had just abandoned, preferring that to either her current accommodations underground or life in a house with Ed. It was an impossible choice, given the danger of walker attacks out in the open, of course, but luckily it was not a choice that she had to make. Only one of those three was available to her at the moment, one never would be again – thank goodness! – and the other one… well, if there was one thing she had learned recently, it was that you just never knew what might happen next in life.

She reached the rec room at the end of the hall and pushed the door open slowly, flicking on the light switch. It was just as she'd left it when she'd ushered Carl and Sophia towards their beds, leaving Lori to browse the selection of books. She walked back towards the bookshelf, and walked slowly along the long row of books, her fingers trailing over their spines. There were _so many_ books here. Reading had always been something that she'd enjoyed, especially when she was young, before her life had filled up with so many other responsibilities. Living with Ed, and then having Sophia to take care of, hadn't exactly left her a lot of leisure reading time. She let the fleeting thought of Ed escape her mind as easily as it had entered. Ed was gone.

Not having the patience to browse the entire collection of books, she pulled one out at random. The title was East of Eden, written by John Steinbeck. She knew the author's name, but hadn't read the book. Deciding it was as good as any other book she might choose at random, she settled herself against the cushions of the couch, stretching out so that her head rested on a pillow at one end of the couch and her feet stretched out in front of her, and began reading. It was comforting to have something besides her own grim reality to focus on, and before long she felt herself finally relax. She didn't even notice her eyelids getting heavy, and within a few minutes she was asleep.

A few hours later, closer to morning but still before sunrise – not that they could have seen it from underground – the door to the rec room creaked open. Daryl tiptoed into the room, having slept as long as his body would allow him. He had grown so accustomed to sleeping with one eye open, so to speak, and only for a few hours at a time, that he hadn't made it through the whole night. Besides, he wasn't crazy about this place. Sure, it seemed safe enough for now – no walkers or any other identifiable threats – but something about Dr. Jenner's demeanor didn't sit right with him. He'd always preferred the woods to civilization anyway, and this sealed in living space had him feeling like a caged animal. He'd woken up, suddenly completely awake, and needed to move. He'd gotten in the habit back in camp of walking the perimeter to check for threats first thing in the morning, so he'd been patrolling the inhabited area of the complex, just checking to be sure it was still safe.

He was surprised to find the rec room light on when he entered the room. It had been so long since the group had had access to electricity, and Dr. Jenner had warned them to go easy on the power, that he hadn't expected anyone in their group to be careless about leaving lights on. _Maybe it was one of the kids_, he thought to himself. As he took another few steps into the room, he understood what had happened. He noticed right away that Carol was laying on one of the couches, a book still open in her hand, having slipped to the space between her rib cage and the couch cushion. He wondered why she'd ended up sleeping here, instead of her room.

He couldn't explain why, but the next thing he knew, he'd picked up the blanket that he saw folded on a chair in the corner and laid it over her. He saw her fidget slightly as the weight of the blanket on her registered, and he decided to slip out before he accidentally woke her up. The woman had been through enough lately – they all had – and she deserved to get some sleep. He walked back to the door as quietly as he could, purposely leaving the light on. It would probably be pretty scary to wake up in a strange place in the dark, he decided, especially since the lights had been on when she'd fallen asleep. He was just pulling on the door handle to leave when he heard a quiet murmuring behind him, and the sound of someone shifting. He turned around to see Carol looking up at him.

"Hi Daryl," she said quietly, sounding exactly like someone who'd just woken up. He had noticed that she, unlike most of the others in the group, never had that disdainful edge to her voice when she spoke to him. He just nodded at her, but he didn't pull the door open as he had been about to.

"I must have fallen asleep reading. I came down here to find something to distract me. For the life of me I couldn't sleep," she told him.

He wasn't sure why he was standing there listening to her, but he decided it would be rude to just walk out when she was talking to him, even if that was his first impulse. He might have done that if it'd been one of the others, but he didn't mind Carol so much, and wouldn't go out of his way to be rude to her.

"Ya still feelin claustrophobic?" he asked, letting go of the door handle and taking a few steps back toward the middle of the room.

_He heard me say that? And remembered it?_ she thought to herself in surprise. She nodded slightly, grimacing. "I've never liked the feeling of being closed in. It makes me nervous when I feel like there's no way to… escape. You know, just in case."

_Oh yes I do,_ he thought to himself. He was pretty sure that comment had something to do with that asshole husband of hers, and it reminded him of how he'd felt about his own asshole father growing up. He had tried to always make sure there was a way to escape, if possible.

He nodded at her again, his face revealing nothing. "Yeah, I don't like it down here neither. It's too… quiet. I'd rather be in the woods." It may already have been the longest conversation he'd had with anyone in the group voluntarily since he'd met them all by the quarry.

She nodded in understanding, swinging her legs around so that her feet touched the floor. She stood up and stretched, then said, "So you couldn't sleep either? Are you on patrol?" She walked towards him, stopping a few feet away.

"Yeah, not really used to sleeping much anymore," he mumbled, taking half a step back from her. "Figured I may as well walk around and check things out." She nodded again. _Why am I telling her this? _he wondered.

"I guess I should go back to bed, see if I can get a few more hours of sleep before the day starts. And I'd hate for Sophia to wonder what happened to me when she wakes up," Carol said, walking by him towards the door with the book she'd been holding still in her hand. Daryl turned to follow her out of the room, flicking the lights off as he closed the door. They walked down the hall in silence. The quiet in this place was eerie, and they both felt it. Carol paused at the door to the room she and Sophia were sharing, her hand on the doorknob.

"Good night, Daryl," she said quietly. He nodded at her again. She started to open the door, then turned and said over her shoulder, "And thank you for the blanket." The corners of his mouth turned up almost imperceptibly at the acknowledgement of his kindness.

Giving him a small smile, she slipped back into the darkened room and was relieved to find Sophia still sleeping. She crumpled up her earlier note, tossing it into the trash can, and climbed back under her covers. Somehow, this time she was able to relax and she fell asleep quickly. She still didn't _like_ this place, but somehow talking to Daryl had made her less anxious about being there. It seemed safer.

Daryl stood looking at the door for a moment after Carol had closed it, then turned and continued down the hall. Something wasn't right, and he was going to keep trying to figure out what. He felt a sudden, powerful urge to keep these people – his group – safe.


	8. Better

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead. I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Season 2, episode 1**

**A traffic jam on the highway outside of Atlanta, mid-day**

It had all gone wrong so quickly, and not just once. For this group of survivors, things never seemed to go wrong just one thing at a time.

After escaping the CDC building with only seconds to spare before it had gone up in a fiery ball, they'd been on the road again, not knowing exactly what would happen next but once again, safe for that moment. It seemed like since the world had gone so wrong, being safe for _that moment _was the best they could hope for. Daryl was leading the caravan on his motorcycle, Carol and Sophia riding with Lori, Rick and Carl, while Dale, Shane, Andrea, T-Dog and Glenn rode in the RV. Carl and Sophia had talked about wanting to see the Grand Canyon, and Sophia had leaned her head contentedly on Carol's shoulder. Carol had rested her head on her daughter's head, savoring the moment. Here they were at the end of the world, but they still had each other.

When they'd found the traffic back up they'd slowed to a crawl, but at least they had still been moving. When the radiator hose on the RV finally went, there was nothing they could do but halt so that Dale could try to replace it. They _were_ surrounded by cars, so finding one they could use as a substitute seemed plausible. The idea of scavenging through the parked cars for other useable supplies while Dale worked took a bit of getting used to for some of them, but before long nearly everyone was spread out, looking for useful items in strangers' abandoned cars while they waited to move on.

It was lucky that Dale had seen the walkers coming. There were just a few at first, then suddenly more than they could count. There was just enough time for nearly everyone to duck under the cars or otherwise find cover. Andrea had a close call with a walker in the RV, and T-Dog had cut himself badly on a piece of metal, but overall it looked like they'd gotten through it. That is, until a walker had spotted Sophia. She'd done the only thing she could think of to do, she'd jumped over the guard rail at the edge of the highway and run into the trees, now with two walkers behind her. Rick had gone after her without hesitation, as the rest of the group stood helplessly by the guard rail.

Lori had grabbed Carol from behind and held on to her, hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, when they had first run up to the edge of the highway, but slowly she relaxed her grip on her friend and just stood close to Carol, rubbing her arm soothingly. There was no way she could comfort her and she knew it. As a mother herself, she knew that there was nothing she could say to stop Carol from being sick with worry while her daughter was being chased through the woods by walkers, even if Rick was out there as well. Lori coaxed Carol to at least sit down on the ground in front of the guard rail, because she looked like she might fall down if she didn't. Slowly, the others drifted away one by one, unable to help by standing there, and now looking warily in the distance in all directions. They went back to scavenging nearby cars for supplies, the only useful activity they could think of to fill the time.

It took what felt like a long time, but Carol's breathing slowly became more regular, though she continued whimpering quietly, and tears kept slipping down her cheeks. Lori didn't press her to talk, just sat next to her and occasionally whispered soothing sounds, rubbing her back or patting her hand. They sat that way as the sun moved slowly across the sky. No more walkers appeared, and the other members of the group continued making small but mostly unimportant discoveries in the cars around them.

Lori was just beginning to feel that she couldn't sit on the hard ground much longer when she heard footsteps not too far behind her. She looked over her shoulder and saw Daryl nearby, peering into the woods in the direction where Sophia and Rick had run. She got to her feet and beckoned him over, not quite knowing what to expect from the somewhat antisocial man, but since he was the only one there, he would have to do.

Daryl wasn't sure what Lori wanted him there for. He was no good in this kind of situation, and Lori never spoke to him if she could avoid it. He made his way over slowly to where the women sat, as he saw Lori start towards him. She met him a few feet from where Carol was sitting.

Lori turned away from Carol and spoke in a low voice. "Daryl, I need to check on Carl and stretch my legs, can you… stay with her for a while?" she waved her hand toward Carol, who was still sitting on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest and rocking herself slightly. He ignored the condescending tone in Lori's voice, which was always there when she spoke to him. She wasn't the only one who talked to him that way. He nodded once at Lori and walked past her without a word. It didn't really matter to him what Lori thought of him, he wasn't doing this for _Lori_, anyway. He felt awkward about approaching Carol, but agreed that she shouldn't be left to sit alone right now. Interestingly enough, he'd been coming over to check on her anyway, but he just hadn't known if he should approach her with Lori there.

He walked slowly and deliberately forward and stepped carefully over the guard rail, looking down at her on the ground. She didn't seem to notice him at first, her gaze still fixed on the woods. In his right hand he held a water bottle, not quite full, and he bent down and set it in front of her, since her hands were clenched in her lap. He had a sudden feeling of déjà vu, remembering the last time he'd brought her water, not so very long ago, just after she'd taken a pick axe to her dead husband's head and then sat staring out at the trees. _Woman has some goddamn bad luck_, he thought to himself.

"Water," he said quietly to get her attention. His voice was gravely but at the same time very gentle. It surprised even him. He was fairly sure he'd never heard that voice before, except possibly when he'd brought her water the last time.

"Thank you," she whispered, not taking her eyes off the trees, or moving to touch the water bottle.

He sighed slightly, lowering himself to the ground on her left, shrugging off his crossbow and laying it beside his left hand. He didn't know what to say, but couldn't help but feel like he had to say _something_. There was just something about seeing this fragile woman, who he barely knew, get upset… he couldn't explain why, but he didn't like it.

She knew he felt uncomfortable. It was pretty obvious, and normally she would have happily made conversation with him. He was rough around the edges, but she liked Daryl. There was something comforting about him, though she couldn't put her finger on it. This time, however, she couldn't bring herself to say anything. She didn't really need him to say anything, even though she could tell that he wanted to. Even before he had spoken at all, she'd felt calmer just having him sit beside her. She appreciated the concern behind Lori's presence, but Lori didn't have a calming effect on Carol. If anything, for some reason Lori made her more anxious, though she'd never tell her friend that.

"She's gonna be OK, ya know that? Right?" His voice came out as the same rough but gentle rumble that it had before. At first he didn't think she heard him, because she didn't respond right away.

She _had_ heard him, but his gentle words had almost made her fall apart all over again, and it was all she could do to keep herself together. She took a few deep breaths before she trusted herself to respond at all.

After a pause, Daryl heard Carol exhale suddenly, and turned to see her nod her head quickly, a few more tears slipping down her cheeks. It was killing him that he couldn't do anything for her.

Then he realized why this was bothering him so much. Suddenly he was thinking back to the time when he was nine and _he_ had been lost in the woods. No one had even been there to notice he was missing, much less to try to find him. He'd been a tough kid though, even at nine, having been accustomed to rough treatment at the hands of his father and older brother, Merle. At first the woods had seemed like a great escape from the harshness of his life, but being out there alone without food or water or… anything or anyone… even _he_ hadn't been tough enough not to be scared.

This girl Sophia, she wasn't tough. She was sweet, you could tell from looking at her, and now there were walkers after her, and she was alone and scared. He tried to push the thought out of his head before _he_ got upset as well. This situation was striking a nerve with him, and it wouldn't help her if he was rattled.

"You should have some water," he told her quietly. She bobbed her head a few times before finally picking up the water bottle and opening it to take a drink.

"Always bringing me water, huh?" she asked him in a soft and almost expressionless voice, as she replaced the cap and set the bottle back on the ground. Her eyes had still not left the treeline.

_So I'm not the only one having déjà vu right now_, he thought_._

"Well, I guess someone's gotta," he replied. He had noticed that everyone else seemed to take her help for granted, even her "friend," Lori. No one seemed to notice that she always put herself last. This wasn't the kind of thing he usually would have noticed in people – he'd always pretty much hated most people – but for some reason he _had_ noticed it about her.

"Thanks," she whispered, still not looking at him.

He wanted to get up and run then, he wasn't good with people or talking or emotions, and he didn't know what else to say or do. Feelings – pretty much any kind – made him downright uncomfortable. He usually avoided them whenever possible, and used those opportunities to stalk into the woods to be alone and think, calm himself down.

Glancing around for Lori or one of the others to come and sit with Carol, he saw that no one else was nearby. He decided that he would fight the urge to run, despite what his instincts were telling him. If it had been anyone else, he would never have been sitting here in the first place. But there was something about this woman. He found himself acting like a different person around her. A _better_ person. Somehow he knew it wouldn't be right to leave her sitting there alone.

After what seemed like an eternity, they saw Rick emerge from the trees – and Daryl watched helplessly as Carol's face clearly showed her heart breaking all over again, because Rick was alone.


	9. Tears

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead. I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Author's Note: I've been working hard trying not to put too much "cute" into these early chapters, despite how much I love cute "Caryl" stories. It's hard, knowing how deep their connection goes by season 5, trying not to overdo it in the first few seasons. Of course, it's impossible to say exactly how they felt and when, so I hope you don't mind if I maybe overdo it **_**just a little**_**, though my goal is really to get it right. Creative license is the fun of fanfic, right? **

**Season 2, episode 1**

**A traffic jam on the highway outside of Atlanta, afternoon**

After what seemed like an eternity, they saw Rick emerge from the trees – and Daryl watched helplessly as Carol's face clearly showed her heart breaking all over again, because Rick was alone.

She tried to pull herself to her feet, but she ended up collapsing forward on her knees. Her cries were gut wrenching. Everyone else was hurrying toward Rick, eager for news, as he walked toward them shaking his head. Carol was still beside Daryl, who hadn't moved to get up. Overcome with emotion, she had now crouched forward on her hands and knees while heaving sobs came from within her with such force that she couldn't have stopped them if she had tried.

He felt like he was in the eye of the storm. It was horrible, the chaos that was happening around him, what Carol was undoubtedly feeling, and yet somehow, he was still. _Someone_ needed to be. He leaned forward and, as if powered by some external force, his hand reached up and planted itself in the middle of her back, just holding still there. Through his hand, he could feel the sobs that shook her body, but within seconds he felt them begin to lessen ever so slightly.

He had no idea what had possessed him to reach for her, because it was something that he would never have done voluntarily in a million years. If anything, at any other time his immediate, involuntary reaction to any form of touch would be to recoil as if he had been scalded. The scars on his body were painful reminders of the times that he hadn't been able to move away fast enough from his father in his childhood, and his aversion to touch was the lasting result.

Carol felt the weight of Daryl's hand on her back. She was surprised, as he didn't seem like the type to do something like that, even to comfort someone who was so frantically upset. She had noticed that he didn't even seem to like to make conversation with anyone, much less console them, and definitely not touch them. She had specifically heard him mumble the word "assholes" under his breath on more than one occasion when other people were around, which made her smile, though she couldn't explain why. She wouldn't have used that word about anyone, of course, but for some reason she found it funny when he did.

Despite the fact that he seemed so unfriendly most of the time, she liked Daryl well enough, for someone she didn't really know of course. There was something about him, as if they just understood each other somehow, though they had barely ever spoken. Because of this, she was fairly certain that he would rather have been anywhere _but_ besides a sobbing woman. Still, there he was, and there was his hand resting between her shoulder blades. It was as if that warmth was the only thing keeping her connected with the world around her, which had seemed to have all but disappeared when she saw Rick emerge from the trees without Sophia. Even before she had shut her eyes and began to cry again, her vision had narrowed to the few inches directly in front of her. Everything else was simply… gone.

Rick approached her, looking at the ground. He crouched down in front of her, determined to keep his voice calm and even, for her sake.

"Carol," he almost whispered. She was still sobbing, though not as loudly or as deeply as before. "Carol, let me tell you what happened out there. I found her. She was OK…"

Upon hearing this, Carol looked up for the first time, sliding back to a kneeling position and looking desperately at Rick. He had said she _was_ OK, past tense… _Oh God,_ she thought, bracing herself for what he would say next.

"I caught up to her. The two walkers were still coming after her. I told her to hide in a hollow spot along a creek, behind some roots from the tree growing above it. I had to draw them away from her so I could kill them."

"You left her there?" Carol whispered, shocked.

"_I had to draw them away from her_," Rick repeated emphatically. "It was the only thing I could do, I was by myself. And I _did_ draw them away, down the creek a ways. I told her to stay there, that I'd come back and get her. I told her that if I _didn't _come back, she should run back here to y'all. Told her to keep the sun on her left shoulder." Rick felt guilt eating him up inside, though he knew he couldn't have done any differently. He truly felt for this woman, and he hated that he'd come back without her daughter. This kind of thing had been one of the worst parts of his job as a Sheriff's Deputy back in his former life.

Carol continued to stare at him, wide-eyed. She wasn't sobbing. Her body was still, but tears ran down her cheeks and she didn't try to stop them or wipe them away. Daryl's hand was still on her back – Rick and the others who had gathered around hadn't failed to notice this – without which, she felt certain that she would have collapsed again. It was like the small amount of strength required to remain upright was being pumped into her through his hand.

Daryl's eyes remained on Carol. There was nothing he could do for her, and he hated it. Normally this kind of frustration would have sent him barreling straight into the woods, but there he still was, glued to that spot by the highway. Something had told him that he was needed right where he was. It wasn't a feeling he was familiar with, or even comfortable with, but he was going to do the right thing. Though it was unfamiliar, there was a certain feeling of warmth to being needed, and he found that at least in this instance, he didn't hate it.

"As soon as I'd killed the walkers, I went back to the spot I'd left her, but she was gone," Rick concluded. There was anguish in his voice. "I had hoped that meant she'd made it back here. I'm sorry, Carol. I haven't given up, though."

That was when Daryl decided to speak up. Looking up at Rick, he said, "Hell, no! I can track her. Can ya show me the spot where ya left her?"

Suddenly there were many pairs of eyes on him all at once as everyone turned to look at him hopefully, which was something he wasn't used to. People didn't usually expect much from him. They had seen him bring in squirrels, rabbits and an occasional deer from his hunts when they were camped, but aside from an occasional "thank you" from whoever he handed them to upon his return – and it was usually Carol, who did most of the cooking – they seemed to take for granted that he would leave the camp and then reappear a few hours later with meat. They didn't really think about the skills that something like hunting required.

"Yeah, no problem," Rick replied.

"Alright then, the hell are we waiting for?" Daryl mumbled. His eyes were still on Rick, but the hand that had been on Carol's back slid to her left shoulder and gave the tiniest of squeezes before he removed it, leaned over to grab his crossbow from his other side and stood up. This movement happened so quickly that Carol herself almost missed it. She suddenly realized exactly how much his hand had been supporting her when he removed it, and she had to lean her own hand against the ground for stability. She eased herself back down so that she was sitting cross legged, then leaned back against the guard rail post for support. Daryl and Rick were talking about something related to the search, but she couldn't even focus on what they were saying. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She needed for this all to go away, to wake up from what was surely a terrible nightmare. It just _had _to be.

"Carol?" It was Rick again. Carol opened her eyes weakly and tried to focus on the two men in front of her. "We're leaving now. We'll do everything we can to bring her back, OK? I promise."

Carol found that she didn't have the energy left to do anything but nod her head ever so slightly. A sob threatened to escape and she pushed it back down, resulting in a quick intake of breath.

"Shane, Glenn, we could use the two of you as well." Both men nodded and stepped forward, ready to help. He looked back at the rest of the group. "Y'all stay safe here. Keep your eyes open. We'll be back," Rick told them, glancing at each of them in turn before turning around. Daryl had been watching Carol while Rick talked. She looked up at him then, their eyes momentarily locked, and he nodded at her once, as he had done before. Then he turned around and followed Rick, Shane and Glenn into the trees, the four of them suddenly gone from view.

The group knew that there would be no moving Carol from that spot. Everyone looked around nervously, not quite sure of what to do next. Dale climbed back up the ladder to the top of the RV to keep watch. T-Dog rested nearby, still in pain from his injury when the walkers had come through. Andrea retreated to the RV to continue practicing the correct assembly of her gun.

Lori sat down on one side of Carol, and Carl made himself comfortable on the other. Lori saw the water bottle sitting beside her, glad that Daryl had thought to give it to her. "You should drink something," she told her friend. Carol nodded slowly, picking up the bottle as if moving in slow motion and thinking of the last time she'd been told that, earlier that afternoon. It felt like a lifetime ago. Daryl had been there, his mere presence calming her, before Rick had returned empty handed and…

Carol stopped her thoughts from finishing that sentence. She dropped the bottle back to the ground as she suddenly pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them and put her head down between her knees. Why wouldn't this horrible scene just disappear? She wanted to wake up from this nightmare, because that was obviously what this was.

Lori and Carl were both momentarily startled by her sudden movement and looked at her in surprise. She had been so still, and then had suddenly moved so quickly. Carl looked confusedly over Carol to his mother, who just shook her head sadly, putting her arms around the little ball Carol had curled herself into and held on. Carl tentatively rubbed Carol's back below where Lori's arm held her, the way his mother did when _he_ was upset. He figured it usually made him feel better, so maybe it would help. Lori smiled sadly at her son, recognizing the gesture.

They sat this way for a little while. Finally, Carol relaxed enough to sit up, and the other two leaned back, giving her some space. A little while before that, Glenn and Shane had returned to the highway, saying that Rick and Daryl were on Sophia's trail, but so far no one else had emerged from the trees. They were so focused on the woods that they were startled to hear loud creaks and groans of metal on metal from behind them on the road, and turned to see Glenn driving one of their working cars, slowly and deliberately using it to push disabled cars off of the road. There was no time to sit still, despite the heartache. That was their new reality.


	10. Rest

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead – it would be a very different show! But I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Season 2, episode 1**

**A traffic jam on the highway outside of Atlanta, night**

Carol had been perched on or beside the guard rail at the edge of the highway since the moment Sophia had gone into the woods hours and hours ago. She hadn't left it for _anything_. Daryl had brought her water earlier, and Lori had attempted to get her to eat a few of the stale snacks they had found while rummaging through the cars around them, which Carol had refused, but mostly she had just been sitting at the edge of the interstate, staring at the trees and waiting anxiously for Sophia to stroll out of the woods. Then Rick and Daryl had returned at sunset, without her, and despite Carol's best efforts to remain composed, it had taken her only a few minutes before she fell apart all over again. The group had taken turns sitting beside her as the shadows grew longer, sometimes in silence, though mostly talking to her, trying to think of comforting words to murmur to her, but none of them really expected their efforts to be successful. What could you say to the mother of a twelve year old girl who was lost in the woods at night after the zombie apocalypse?

It was pitch black now, and the cicadas were chirping loudly all around them. Thankfully the moon was bright that night, though even still, it was very dark. The group was slowly growing accustomed to the blackness and stillness of the nights since there was no longer anything powered by electricity to break the quiet, but it still felt eerie. It had been especially unsettling since that night at their first camp, when the quiet had been immediately followed by their makeshift home being overrun by walkers.

Of course, it was safer for them to be inside the vehicles than out in the open in the dark. There was far less chance of being surprised by something or someone that might seem to appear out of nowhere. Despite this, Carol remained at her post, sitting on the guard rail. Nearly everyone had tried to get her to come inside and lie down, though no one actually expected her to sleep. Glenn had been the most recent one to try, and he was currently sitting beside her, having just made the same speech to her that nearly everyone else had done at some point in the past hour:

"It's not safe out here." _I don't care_, was always her response.

"You need to rest." _No, I'm fine, _she'd replied_._

"We're worried about you." _I'm not the one you should be worried about_, she'd said quickly_._

"Carol, _please…"_ She would just shake her head sadly. She'd given everyone who'd tried to make her budge more or less the same answers.

Glenn looked around helplessly. He knew that everyone else had failed as well, but he had still wished that he could help the woman who did so much for all of them. He saw Daryl walk slowly into his peripheral vision, and the younger man turned and shrugged his shoulders at him, as if to say _I don't know what else to do_. Daryl nodded in understanding, walking towards them and motioned with his head for Glenn to go back inside with the others. Daryl didn't figure he'd be any better at this than anyone else – probably much worse, since he'd never been any good with people – but there was no way he was going to leave Carol outside in the dark by herself, certainly not as upset as she was. He'd already failed to find her daughter, which made him feel guilty enough, he wasn't going to fail her again if he could possibly help it. He sat down beside her, the spot where Glenn had been only a moment before, the spot that all of the others but T-Dog had occupied at some point during the past few hours. He didn't know what to say, so they just sat in silence, but he didn't mind that. He'd never been a guy with a lot to say anyway.

Finally, after he'd started to wonder if she'd even noticed his presence, he saw her turn her head ever so slightly towards him, though her eyes were still on the trees, and whisper "You bring me water again?" If he didn't know better, he'd have said it sounded like she was teasing him, though there was nothing about her body language that suggested that that was the case whatsoever. On the contrary, she looked miserable, like she'd be the last person to say anything remotely funny. He wasn't sure how she'd meant it, so he wasn't sure how to respond.

He looked at her nervously. "Uh, nah… sorry." _Should _he have brought her water? It was true that no one else had probably thought to bring her any… He glanced down by her feet and could just barely make out the shape of the water bottle he'd brought her earlier, but he couldn't see whether it was empty or not. "I can get ya some if ya want."

She shook her head slightly. The corners of her lips tilted up just the tiniest bit, or maybe he was just seeing things in the dark. "No, sorry, just… teasing you," she whispered again. Now he could hear it in her tone, and he realized that she was trying her hardest to make him feel less awkward about being there. He shook his head ever so slightly at how backwards it seemed that _she_ was trying to make _him_ feel better. That was just who she was. After another minute she spoke again, never taking her eyes off the trees, once again in a whisper so quiet he almost didn't hear her. "So, you gonna tell me I need to come inside, too?"

He thought for a minute about the best way to respond. Of course, it would probably be best if she _did_ go in and rest, but telling her that flat out probably wouldn't work. There was a _reason_ she was sitting out here, and it was a damn good one. Besides, surely every single other person in the group had already said that to her, and she was still sitting here. Clearly a new approach was in order. "Nah, I figure you wanna stay right here and keep watch," he said softly. "Guess I would too if I were you…" She turned around then, pulling her eyes away from the trees for the first time in hours, surprise written all over her face. She was surprised by not just what he had said, but how he'd said it. He hadn't talked to her the same way the others had, as if they were talking to a frustrating child who was refusing to cooperate and that they knew better. There was understanding in his voice, and as rough as it was, it was gentle at the same time, just as it had been both times he had brought her water. "Though you gotta admit that you're gonna have to rest eventually. You can't keep going on like this too much longer."

She sighed, then after another pause, she started speaking, still at a whisper. "No one understands… I just can't go inside. What if she comes back and thinks no one's here? I won't be able to sleep anyway. How _could_ I? I might as well just stay here, where I can be useful." There were tears gathered in the corners of her eyes threatening to spill out at any second. When she looked down at her hands just then, two tears, one from each side, splashed down into her lap.

Daryl _really_ didn't want to see her cry again if he could help it. He didn't like to see _any _woman cry, but especially Carol. He'd felt protective of her even since he'd seen how her asshole husband had treated her back at the quarry. While his first instinct was just to get up and leave and therefore avoid seeing her cry, he knew that that wasn't even an option. He nodded his head slowly, an idea forming that he thought there was a small chance that she might go for. "What if," he began slowly, "I sit here 'n watch for her 'n you go in 'n lie down for an hour? Just an hour. Then you come back out. 'Cause you may not wanna hear it from me or anyone else, but you _do_ need to rest_._"

She didn't move, and she looked like she wanted to protest, to say no, but only for a split second. He could see her face just enough to be able to tell that her expression had changed, and that the wheels were turning in her head. "You'd do that for me? Are you sure?" she asked in awe. Years of living with Ed had made her almost forget that there were people in the world who were willing to be kind to her, and she still hadn't gotten used to the idea despite how kind he had been to her already.

He nodded at her. "Of course." He didn't really think she'd agree, but suddenly he saw her nod her head.

"Okay," she whispered. She got to her feet very slowly – he imagined that she must be very stiff after sitting in that same place most of the day – and stretched. Turning around to step over the guard rail, she swayed a little, and she put her hand on his shoulder lightly to steady herself. When he immediately recoiled, she yanked her hand away as if she had been burned. "Oh, sorry," she said quickly. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable when he was doing her a favor.

"It's okay… just wasn't expecting it," he mumbled, looking at the ground. She scrambled over the guard rail, this time without touching him, and he turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. "Now you go lie down, a'ight?"

"I will. Thanks, Daryl," she promised in the same whispered tone. Then she added, "You gonna be okay out here?"

"Go lie down, then we'll trade," he repeated.

"Okay, okay, I'm going. And Daryl?"

"Mmmpf?" he grunted in response.

"_Thanks."_

"It ain't nothing. Besides, ya said that already."

"Well, it's not nothing to me. To me it's a big deal," she assured him quietly, then turned to walk toward the RV.

Sure, he hoped that Sophia would walk out of the woods all on her own, but he wasn't expecting it to happen, especially in the middle of the night. But if it made Carol feel better, he would sit here as long as he needed to. He figured – hoped – that Sophia had found _somewhere_ to hide, and that she was safe and asleep in her hiding place. He also hoped that Carol would at least lie down when she got inside the RV, maybe even close her eyes.

Daryl could've climbed up on top of the RV, where Dale was on watch, as usual, but he preferred to sit in silence and solitude. He knew it would've been safer up there, and the old man was alright, he guessed, but he had no desire to go out of his way to talk to him. Instead, he sat and stared at the woods, as Carol had done, trying to use his mind to will Sophia out of the forest. It wasn't working very well. His mind started to wander back to his days lost in the woods as a nine year old. How dark it had been at night, how every snap of a twig he heard had made him feel like a dangerous animal was sneaking up behind him. _And that was before there were walkers_. He cringed, his hands balled into fists. He hated that he had to sit here and do nothing while anything could be happening to that little girl, all because of the damn sun having set. The minutes seemed to drag on endlessly, and at last he stood and paced back and forth between the two support posts holding up the guard rail, about ten feet apart.

Once inside, Carol was met with looks of surprise from the rest of the group. After each one of them, with the exception of T-Dog, who had a fever, had tried to convince her to come in, it had been Daryl who had succeeded. More than a few of them found that odd, since he wasn't exactly known in the group for his warm and fuzzy demeanor. Still, they were just glad that someone had been able to get through to her. It was crowded inside the RV, even though Rick, Lori and Carl were sleeping in a nearby car, but they had agreed that Carol should go and lie down on the bed for however long she was able. She tried to protest weakly, but she had used up most of her energy on her vigil all day on the guard rail.

Finally, Andrea nearly pushed her to the bed, and in the end she didn't argue. As she lay down, far too many pairs of sympathetic eyes watched her expectantly. She wished that they would just go away and leave her in peace. She tried rolling onto her other side, so that she couldn't see them, and eventually she heard them begin to move around, to talk quietly, to do other things. It was a relief, because she didn't want their sympathy. If anything, it was making her more anxious, but she took a deep breath and reminded herself that they were being supportive in the only way they knew how.

As she lay there, Carol began to realize just what a toll the day had taken on her. Her mind was wide awake and screaming against laying down on a bed – how _could_ she, when her daughter was _lost in the woods? _– but she realized as she lay there just how physically exhausted she really was. Still, her mind was racing and she didn't think she'd ever sleep. It was like a tug of war. She found herself drifting in and out of consciousness. Each time she drifted off she saw and heard walkers swirling before her eyes, sometimes chasing Sophia, sometimes chasing her, sometimes just walking in herds through the trees, their grunts and groans growing louder and louder in her ears as they closed in, ready to tear into her flesh or that of her daughter. Eventually in each of these scenes something would startle her and she'd snap awake, her eyes flying open to find her staring at the wall of the RV, her face damp with sweat, her breathing heavy as if she'd been running for her life.

She tried to lie still when she awoke this way, didn't want to attract the others' attention in case they were sitting nearby, didn't want them to look at her like they had earlier – with pity. Finally, after going through this cycle countless times, she decided that she had had enough. She sat up on the bed, brought her feet to the floor and stretched. She saw T-Dog dozing against the side wall of the RV, sitting at the table. Glenn was in the front seat, with the seat leaned back and appearing to be fast asleep. Andrea had curled up in a little space on the floor. She didn't see the others, but she was sure they couldn't be far.

Picking her way gingerly around her friends, she descended the stairs as quietly she could, but the metal creaked in protest. Daryl had paced for a while during Carol's fitful sleep, but had gone back to the seat where he had started out his watch. When he heard the noise from the steps, he turned around and, seeing that it was her, he nodded solemnly as he often did. She walked slowly back to the guard rail, taking the same place where she'd been beside him earlier.

"You sleep any?" he asked her.

"A little, but not well," she replied in the same quiet voice as before, now a little hoarse with sleep.

"Better 'n nothin," he replied, nodding. They sat beside each other and looked at the trees for a minute before either of them spoke again.

"It's your turn," she said softly.

"Huh?" he asked, not knowing what she was talking about.

"It's your turn to go lie down," she reminded him.

"Mppppf," he grunted.

"Uh-uh, you promised," she countered, her voice just a little bit louder and very firm. He didn't move, so she tried something else. "I'm just guessing that you're planning to go out and look for Sophia again tomorrow, right?"

He nodded his head without speaking. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. _Dammit, she's as stubborn as I am,_ he thought.

"So you're gonna run all over the woods, probably all day long, tracking her without any sleep? That sounds even crazier than me trying to sit here on this guardrail all day and all night without sleeping. At least_ I_ was sitting down all day." He sighed and shook his head, knowing that she was right.

He exhaled loudly, showing his displeasure at her logical approach to why he should leave his seat beside her, but he didn't look annoyed. He heaved himself up to his feet, stretching his tired, sore muscles. He turned to climb over the guard rail, looking down at her and mumbling something that sounded like "G'night," and she pushed her mouth into as much of a smile as she could manage and looked back up at him. Her eyes were sad, but conveyed the appreciation she felt for him at that moment, or at least she hoped that they did. 

Daryl walked back toward the RV, and Carol recommenced her surveillance of the treeline. A new day would be starting soon enough.


	11. Emotions

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead – it would be a very different show! But I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Author's Note: I just want to say how much I love people who leave me reviews for this story (or any of my stories really)! This means that I have a LOT of love for Seerwood and HarryMakepeace, who I think have reviewed just about every chapter so far. I appreciate **_**everyone**_** who takes the time to leave me a comment. Those little notes totally make my day every single time (I get so excited, my husband looks at me like I'm crazy), so thank you!**

**Season 2, episode 1**

**A church in the woods with "no bells and no steeple," mid-day(ish)**

Today's search party was larger – everyone but T-Dog, whose fever had not abated, and Dale, who stayed back with him and kept watch, had joined in. They'd been following Daryl, who continued to track Sophia's trail through the woods, when they'd heard the sound of bells. Upon arriving at the small, white church, they wondered at the fact that this building didn't have any bells to ring. However, shortly after that they'd discovered the sound of bells playing on a recording, broadcast from a speaker on the wall outside, set on a timer. There was not a living soul at the church, just a few walkers sitting quietly inside, and they were quickly taken care of. Of course, the odds of finding _anyone_ alive there, much less Sophia, were slim to none, but it was a disappointment nonetheless. They all wanted to believe that by some miracle, Sophia would have been there.

As they stood outside the church after Glenn had stopped the bell sounds from playing, realizing that they were no closer to finding Sophia, there was an unspoken agreement amongst the group that they would take a few minutes' break. Carol announced that she was going to head back inside the church for a few minutes, and the others split off in various directions, no one going far.

The floor creaked as Carol walked inside, her footsteps echoing in the small, high ceilinged room. She walked slowly towards the altar at the front. As she did, Glenn appeared in the doorway behind her, stopping when he saw her. He hadn't been coming in for any particular reason, and before he had taken a step inside he decided that she might want to be alone. He turned and walked silently back down the stairs so that he didn't disturb her.

Carol stopped at the second row of pews, ducking into the bench on the left side of the aisle. She hadn't been devoutly religious in her former life, though she did believe in God. She had prayed _so many_ times for help during the years when she'd been married to Ed, and it seemed that most of those prayers had fallen on deaf ears. It had been hard to believe in God in those years, no matter how much she wanted to. Now Sophia had vanished, and she didn't know if continuing to pray was wasting her breath or not. She leaned forward, draping her arms over the pew in front of her, her hands hanging limp at the wrist, then laid her head down on her arms.

_How could it have come to this? _Everything had been bad enough, and now she had lost the _one thing_ in her life that was good.

Daryl hung back in the doorway, watching her. It had been pretty clear why she wanted a moment in the church, at least to him. He'd seen Glenn stop in the doorway and then tiptoe back down the steps, and he'd wondered if he should check on her or not. He of all people knew that sometimes you just needed time alone. However, he also knew that he didn't want her suffering alone if he could prevent it, and he felt like whenever he encountered her sitting alone, she always appeared to be suffering more than she did when he sat beside her. He figured the worst thing that could happen was she'd tell him to go away. This was new territory for him, caring about another person, but he wanted to give it his best shot. He'd waited a few minutes before venturing up the steps himself. Now he stood leaning against the doorframe, watching her sit hunched forward, her head down on her arms.

She choked back a sob and tried to stop the spiral of self-pity from starting. If she started, she didn't know if she'd be able to stop by the time the group needed to move on. She didn't want them to see her as weak, as a burden. It didn't matter that they said sympathetic things to her, said that they understood. She didn't want sympathy or pity. These days, everyone had lost someone, and lots of people had lost _everyone_. Most people had lost _everything_. She wasn't unique or special in any of these ways. What happened from now on was what the people who were still around chose to make happen, as much as their circumstances would allow, of course.

Logically, she knew that she had two options: she could let it all defeat her, which was the easier option, or she could keep going. _But how?_ How could she possibly keep going? What was left that was worth going on for? Of course she desperately hoped to find Sophia, and she wouldn't give up trying… _but what if they couldn't find her? Or what if they found her, and it was too late? _She had been weak for so long with Ed, and now he was gone and she wanted to be strong… but for what? If not for Sophia, then for who?

As he continued to stand in the doorway, he heard the sob that she tried to swallow. He hated that he still hadn't done the only thing that would take that pain away from her, which was to find Sophia. The guilt that he felt about that since the first time they had come back without her had only been getting worse with time. Gingerly, he started walking slowly up the aisle towards her, the floor creaking slightly under his weight. Carol didn't even look up.

She heard the creak of the floor to indicate that someone was walking towards her, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She hoped that whoever it was would see her and have the sense to know that she wanted to be left alone. She didn't want to talk, she didn't want to be comforted, she didn't want to think. Really, she just wanted to sit here, with her eyes closed, and pretend that this world wasn't the way it was, just for a few more minutes before they had to move on. Of course she wasn't going to stop searching for her daughter until she found her, one way or another. But it was so exhausting to go on like this, and for just a minute she needed it all to stop.

He shuffled down the aisle slowly until he was standing only a few feet away from her. She was hunched into herself, and she looked so small sitting there like that. She was small compared to him anyway, but now she looked tiny. He took a few more steps towards her, until he was standing right beside her. She was sitting at the end of the pew, so there was no room for him to sit down beside her like he wanted to.

She'd heard the creaking of the floor and had ignored the footsteps until it became clear that they weren't going to go away, but that they were coming closer and closer. From the stride as well as the faint smell when the footsteps got closer, she realized that it was Daryl. She was glad it was him, because he was the only person whose presence she could tolerate right now. More than tolerate. Even before she had moved her head off of her arms, she felt relief knowing that he was there.

He cleared his throat to get her attention, figuring that even if she didn't know it was him, she'd know that someone was there. She slowly turned so that the side of her head was still leaning against her arms, as if she were too tired to lift her head. She looked up at him, her face almost expressionless. She just looked… defeated.

"C'mon, scoot over," he said softly.

If it had been anyone else, she would have gotten up and walked out rather than sit there beside them, no matter how rude it might have seemed. However, she had learned in the past few days that she liked to have him sitting beside her. As miserable as she was, things seemed a little less bleak when he was around. She didn't know why, and she wasn't used to that feeling. For as long as she could remember, the only one whose presence had ever had that effect on her was Sophia. Having anyone close to her had just made her nervous, either because she was afraid they would react the way Ed did around her, or because she had been afraid of how Ed would react when he realized that someone had been near her, no matter who it was or what the reason was. No, it had certainly been easier to keep her distance from people.

Now Ed was gone and she didn't have to worry about _his_ reactions, but old habits died hard. Which was why it was so mysterious to her why Daryl's presence had never bothered her, how it actually calmed her. If he had moved suddenly, she would definitely still have flinched involuntarily, but in all of the interactions with him so far that she could remember, he hadn't.

She'd been lost in her thoughts and hadn't moved when he'd asked her to, but he could see that hadn't really heard him. He stood there another minute, then added "I ain't gonna bite ya."

She raised her head, remembering that he was there, and looked at him questioningly. "Scoot _over,_ woman," he repeated. His tone wasn't impatient, or harsh or anything that gave her cause for alarm. Just the opposite, actually. She moved down the smooth wood seat, making room for him to sit beside her. He took his crossbow off of his back, resting it gently on the outside of the pew, and slumped down on the seat next to her. She sighed heavily and leaned her head in her hands, her elbows leaning on her knees. She sat that way for a minute before she sighed again, leaning back and matching his posture in the seat. Somehow, things seemed just a little less hopeless when he was sitting next to her.

"I just…" she started, but trailed off. She couldn't even form a thought to explain any of it, though she did want to.

They were both staring forwards at the altar. He'd never been religious - didn't exactly come from that kind of family – but there was something calming about sitting here in the church. He couldn't decide if it was the effect of the church, or of the person sitting next to him, or both. He nodded, because even though he didn't know what she was trying to say, at some level he did.

"'T's okay… er, I mean, it ain't now, but it will be."

She exhaled gently and smiled just a little at his awkward attempt to comfort her. God, _she_ didn't even know what she was talking about, so how could _he_ hope to know, much less to understand? And how could he hope to say the right thing when there was really no right thing to say? There was nothing to make her feel better short of finding her daughter, and yet here he was, the most awkward member of the group, sitting beside her despite his _obvious_ discomfort, trying to make her feel better. _The poor guy is fighting a losing battle here,_ she thought to herself.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes and she began to wonder… why _was_ he trying so hard? Her curiosity finally got the best of her and she couldn't sit and wonder any longer. _Oh, what the hell? _she thought. _I may as well ask._

"Why do you… care so much?" she whispered. "About Sophia? About…" She couldn't bring herself to add the word "me" to her question, because despite his kindness to her, she couldn't actually believe that there _was_ any reason for him to care about her. Why would he? Why would _anyone_? Having been told for years how worthless she was had made her believe it. She saw herself only as a broken woman with a daughter she'd failed to take care of. No, she couldn't see anything in herself worth caring about.

"About Sophia? No kid deserves to be out alone in the woods. Happened to me when I was little, 'n I was tough, but I was still scared… 'n there weren't even no walkers back then. Just hate to think about her like that."

Carol's eyes were immediately filled with tears again and Daryl wondered if he'd said the wrong thing. "Sorry," he mumbled. Carol shook her head, wiping a few stray tears off her cheeks quickly with her fingertips.

"Don't be sorry," she said softly through her tears. "I wish there were more people in the world like you." Her compliment caught him off guard, and he almost choked, trying his best to swallow the sound before it escaped from him. He'd been told for his whole life that he was a piece of shit, redneck trash, or worse, by his own father and by the rest of the world. The only person who'd ever been kind to him had been his mother, but she had died long ago. Even in their current, raggedy band of misfit survivors, he could feel how the others looked down on him. Daryl Dixon just didn't _do_ feelings if it could be avoided. He didn't really know how. The only thing he knew to do was to get away from people, go into the woods until whatever the feelings were – he didn't even really know how to identify them – had subsided.

He could feel himself blushing, and he looked down at his hands, not taking the chance that she was looking at him. He was extremely uncomfortable then, though not in a bad way. It may have been the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him. He mumbled something she couldn't understand, but she could see that her words had left him flustered. It was a minute or two before his face stopped feeling so hot and he was calm enough to speak again.

"And about you?" He was starting to get used to this soft voice that only seemed to come out of him when he was talking to her. Having recovered from the unexpected compliment, he didn't want her to think he had ignored the second part of her question, even if she hadn't been able to get it out. The fact that she had swallowed the last word told him just how very similar they really were. Yes, he was uncomfortable as _hell_ right now, but the least he could do was to say something nice after what she'd just said to him. Anyway, what he wanted to say was the truth, and she should know it.

"What _about _me?" She looked up at him in surprise, having completely forgotten the other half of her question when he'd talked about Sophia so kindly.

"Ya asked me why I cared," he said simply. She almost gasped, surprised that it had been so obvious that she'd been talking about herself, and embarrassed that she'd just _assumed _that he did care about her in some way, even though she felt like he did. She should've kept her mouth shut. She should never have assumed that, and she certainly shouldn't have asked him. She was mortified.

"No, I… I mean… it's… don't…" She could no longer form a whole thought. Now they were _both _looking at their hands nervously. She suddenly felt a bit sick, her stomach contracting more with each passing second. She leaned forwards and put her head back in her hands, so she couldn't see him at all. She was going to die of embarrassment right there, she was fairly certain.

Now she was acting like he _felt_, which struck him as funny. He smiled at her even though she couldn't see him. "Hey, _stop._" He paused before continuing, not believing he was about to say this. How did this keep happening when he was around her?

"I just… I know what it's like… what that asshole was doin to ya? I been there. Ain't no one deserves that. 'M glad he's gone, so I don't hafta kill 'em myself. I wanted to, back at the quarry. Just didn't know _what_ to do…" He stopped, checking for her reaction. She had taken her hands away from her face, but she was still looking down at them in her lap. She was taking deep breaths and her face full of tension, maybe sadness and yet… the tiniest hint of a smile. "Ya always think of everyone before yourself, so it just seems like someone should watch out for _you_."

She let out something between a laugh and a sob, tears slipping down her cheeks again. For a split second she looked up at him and their eyes met, as she put her hand over her mouth to try to disguise how shocked she was at what he'd just said. She felt so many things at the same time, she couldn't begin to identify them all.

Daryl had had about all her could take of emotions, his _and_ hers, and he stood up suddenly, grabbed his crossbow from the floor and strode back down the aisle of the church. He'd meant what he'd said, but now he needed to get out of there, to breathe, to be alone for a few minutes before they'd have to start moving in a group again.

Carol sat in silence, tears continuing to fall down her cheeks.

_Sophia should be here to see this_, she thought. _To see that not everyone was like her father, to see someone show her kindness so that she didn't always have to feel afraid._

And then her tears began again, though they had never really stopped. She tried to steady herself, stood up, and walked closer to the altar at the front of the church.

She stood there looking at it for what felt like a very long time. Eventually, she heard footsteps behind her by the door. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Rick, Carl, Glenn and Daryl standing against the back wall of the church, and Lori walking down the aisle toward her. She stood by the altar, ignoring the others, to have a talk with God before it was time to leave… she needed to make a plea for her little girl.


	12. Why?

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead – it would be a very different show! But I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Author's note: Thank you for your reviews, Poppy P and Seerwood! Poppy P, also thank you so much for pointing out that Daryl was standing at the back of the church in the scene on the show that supposedly immediately follows the one I wrote as chapter 10. I try to keep the details true to the show as much as possible, and it only required one small update to reconcile this with the fact that Daryl had just walked OUT of the church at the end of my chapter.**

**I never know exactly where these chapters are going to go when I start writing them, and rereading this one now, I realize this may be less of a deleted scene and more of an inner monologue from Daryl… but it wasn't part of the show, so I'm counting it as a "Deleted Scene." I think it works. At least, I hope so. I'd love to know what everyone thinks! :)**

**Season 2, episode 1**

**Outside of the "church in the woods with no bells and no steeple," still mid-day(ish)**

Daryl had had about all her could take of emotions, his _and_ hers, and he stood up suddenly, grabbed his crossbow from the floor and strode back down the aisle of the church. He'd meant what he'd said when she'd asked him why he cared, both about Sophia and about _her_, but now he needed to get out of there, to breathe, to be alone for a few minutes before they'd have to start moving in a group again.

A few of the others who were near the entrance looked up in surprise as he came bursting out of the doors of the church. He wasn't running, but he was definitely moving with purpose. Everyone had noticed that Daryl, who you'd call anti-social on his best days, would sit and talk with Carol for far longer than he would talk with anyone else, so it wasn't so much a surprise to them that he'd been in there sitting with her. They _were_ surprised by how fast he exited. What could have happened? Still, as a group they'd all grown relatively used to each other and everyone's moods in the relatively short time they'd been living together. There were lots of times where the reasons for Daryl's behavior weren't clear to anyone, so they were more curious than concerned.

Daryl walked quickly down the stairs and kept going. He passed through the small cemetery before he reached the trees. Once there, his pace slowed. The trees were thin here, and he had no intention of going out of sight of the others. He didn't want them to panic, thinking he was abandoning them. He put down his crossbow beside him and leaned back against one of the bigger trees, facing away from the church to give himself the allusion of being farther away from the group than he actually was. Though the tree was one of the larger ones here, it was narrower than his body, so he guessed that Rick and the others would still be able to see him there. He would rather have been farther from them, but as long as their kept their distance this would be far enough away for him to cool down. He slid his back down along the tree until he was sitting on the ground.

Only now was his breathing returning to normal. He thought back to what had happened in there. Carol had been lost in thought when he'd gone in, and at first she hadn't even registered that he was there. Or had she heard the sound of the floorboards and ignored them? The floor on the aisle of the church creaked pretty loudly, but given her current state, he couldn't assume that she'd heard the noise. Had she been expecting him to check on her, or had she thought it was someone else? Would she have _preferred _that it had been someone else? He didn't _think_ so, based on the past few days, but you could never be sure with people. She'd looked up at him kindly, as if glad to see him, he was sure of that. But would she have looked at him differently if she _hadn't _been glad to see him? Carol was so kind and patient and polite to everyone, how could he be sure that she hadn't just been humoring him? This was already so confusing, his head was spinning a little, and he leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes.

Then he'd asked her to move over. It would have been so much easier if she hadn't been sitting right up against the aisle, he'd just have sat down beside her quietly like usual. He'd even had to ask her a few times, though he was pretty sure the only reason she hadn't moved was because she'd been lost in thought, not because she didn't want him there. He might not be good with people – okay, that much was a given – but he had noticed that in all the times that she'd been upset and he'd sat down beside her, it _seemed _to him that she'd suddenly relaxed a little when she'd known he was there. He had definitely noticed that sitting beside her relaxed _him_, anyway.

Why was that? People had always made him anxious. Either they wanted something from him, they wanted to hurt him somehow, or they just generally brought trouble with them. It'd been like that all his life, but since the world had become such a different place other people had become even more dangerous. He couldn't trust _anyone_ he didn't know anymore – even less than he had before the world had ended, and that hadn't been much. He had to rely on the people in his group for the basics of survival – since he couldn't always watch his own back, for example when he was sleeping – and he hated it. No, it was better not to rely on people if he could absolutely avoid it.

So why, then, did Carol have the exact opposite effect on him than everyone else did? Everyone else made him anxious, uncomfortable, claustrophobic even, but when he was around her, he usually felt calm... except when she said things that flustered him of course. Yes, there'd been quite a few times lately when he didn't know the right thing to say to her – most of them, actually, because what do you say to someone whose abusive husband has been eaten by walkers? And then on top of that, what do you say to that same person when her twelve year old daughter runs into the forest being chased by walkers and doesn't come back? But even when words seemed completely insufficient, he could just sit there next to her comfortably. She didn't seem to always need to talk. Some of the time she actually didn't _want_ to talk, which helped. He could definitely relate to that feeling. But for whatever reason, she seemed like she _liked_ talking to him, not like she was doing it because she felt like she _had_ to, or because she was uncomfortable with silence, like the rest of those idiots.

Once he'd finally been sitting next to her in the church, she'd been a little fidgety, but seemed to settle down somewhat after a minute or so. She'd been trying to explain something to him, but didn't seem to be able to put it into words. He'd kinda gotten it though. With everything he'd just watched her go through in addition to what _all_ of them were going through, no wonder she was overwhelmed. He'd tried to think of something helpful to say, and he'd just managed one awkward sentence. Nothing earthshattering, pretty dumb, really, something about how everything would be okay – which really, if they were thinking straight, they should know wasn't true in the world they were living in – but she had smiled, and that was all that had mattered.

That was when she'd asked him a serious question, out of nowhere. His stomach tightened a little bit just remembering it. It'd been a double question, really, though based on her reaction, he suspected that the second part had come out by accident. _Why did he care so much about Sophia?_ He could ask himself the same thing… Why _did_ he? When he considered it now, upon reflection, it seemed simple. She had always seemed like a sweet enough kid, not that he had any experience with kids, other than having been one. She'd always been quiet and shy and polite, sticking to her mother like glue most of the time. He felt for her because he could clearly see the situation she was growing up in, though it seemed like Carol had been taking the brunt, if not all, of her husband's abuse to spare her daughter. Still, he felt for the kid. Her father reminded him too much of his own father. Then, she'd run into the woods to escape those two walkers. _He'd_ been alone in the woods for days, way back in the day, and it had been scary. He'd been cold and hungry and alone. He hadn't even had to worry about walkers. So this poor kid had already had a hard enough life, and now this? How could he _NOT _have cared about her?

He'd felt bad, after explaining why he cared about Sophia, that he'd made Carol cry again, and at first he'd thought that he'd made things worse. But these tears were different somehow. She almost smiled as they fell, shaking her head in disbelief. That's when she'd said it.

_I wish there were more people in the world like you_.

He couldn't remember the last time anyone had said _anything_ nice about him, much less something like that. He literally hadn't been able to speak for several minutes, and he'd blushed about as deeply as it was possible to blush. What could he possibly say to that? He had no idea how to take a compliment, so he'd just stared at his hands.

Thinking back now, he cringed a little at the next part of the conversation, still unable to believe the words had come from his mouth. He, Daryl Dixon, who didn't do feelings if they could possibly be avoided, had told her that he cared about her. He could have ignored that part of the question – she certainly seemed like she wished he had, which, along with the fact that she'd never actually finished it, was why he suspected that it had slipped out by accident. But when it came right down to it, he realized that he _did_ care about her. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have spent so much time sitting by her side lately, trying to make sure she was alright. She had been through so much, both before he'd even met her, and then so much more lately. He felt intensely guilty that he'd failed to find Sophia for several days now, and it seemed like the least he could do was to say something that he thought would comfort her, even if it made him intensely _un_comfortable.

When he thought about it, it wasn't surprising that they seemed to understand each other so well. They had so much in common, so much of the same damage. He was probably the person who could best understand what she'd been through, and vice versa. And yet, it was a wonder to him that she'd come through it all so opposite from him. While he shied away from people, she seemed to need them. Both of them had suffered so much abuse that any tiny kindness from anyone felt, to both of them, like a gift which they were completely unworthy of receiving.

He heard voices behind him, and remembered that he wasn't far from the little white church with no steeple. That the group would need to move on soon. His short time in the woods, even if he was just barely away from the others, had done him good. He stood up and brushed himself off, lifted his crossbow back onto his back, and walked quickly back toward the building and the others. He saw Lori, Carl, Rick and Glenn disappear through the church doors, and he tiptoed in behind them to be sure everything was alright.

To be sure that Carol was alright.


	13. Sunset

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead – it would be a very different show! But I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Author's Note: Just when I'd been feeling a little bit unsure about the last few chapters, a few new reviewers cropped up in the past few days and blew me away with their kind words. I'm blushing, seriously! Thanks once again to ALL of the people who've written me reviews!**

**Season 2, episode 2**

**A traffic jam on the highway outside of Atlanta, sunset**

It was the end of yet another day, and still there had been no sign of Sophia. Lori, Rick, Shane, Glenn and T-Dog were now at the Greene Family's farm along with Carl, who was fighting to survive after being accidentally shot. That left Dale, Andrea, Daryl and Carol staying on the highway for another night, hoping against hope that they would reunite with Sophia before they too had to abandon that spot. Earlier that day, when Carol had adamantly declared that she would _not_ leave this "home base" yet, this spot on the highway that she still hoped that Sophia would somehow return to, Daryl had immediately backed her up, saying that the next day would be soon enough to set out for the farm. No one wanted to think about the possibility that she wouldn't have been found by then.

So here they were, watching another breathtaking sunset from what looked like the setting of a disaster movie, except that they were _living_ that movie. Dale was perched atop the RV where he was, as usual, keeping watch. Andrea was up there too, for a change. While she was often annoyed with the old man's paternal, and what she felt to be an overly protective, attitude towards her, she had decided to keep him company for a while. Daryl wasn't ever much for talking, not that she knew where he was anyway, and Carol was pacing along the road, distracted with worry, so Andrea's choices for company this evening were quite limited.

Carol was indeed pacing along the guard rail, unable to sit still, but having nothing constructive to actually _do _to keep her busy. The endless waiting, hoping, and mostly, _thinking_ was agonizing for her. She wished she could turn off her brain, but it hummed with activity every second of the day and night. Sometimes the noise – not an actual sound, just her busy, swirling thoughts – made her dizzy. If she managed to fall asleep at night, which didn't happen often, she was assaulted by even more thoughts. The ones in her dreams, however, were even more terrifying. She could clearly see Sophia being devoured by walkers, beaten by Ed, chased through the woods by any number of demons… and those were just the dreams that made sense. There were others, equally terrifying but more confusing, that were just flashes of images, sounds, feelings… a mixture of things that she recognized from both her old life and this new hell she was trapped in, jumbled together with things she couldn't identify. The result was understandable: Carol tried her best not to fall asleep. As painful as it was to be awake and aware of what was going on, at least she had some control over her mind and her thoughts as long as she was conscious.

Daryl had been in the woods for the past hour or so. He'd known that he should stay with the others, since there were only four of them together at the moment, and of those four, he knew that he was really the only one equipped to handle walkers. Still, he'd needed a little time alone. He still wasn't used to being around people this much, and it was exhausting to him. He hadn't expected to find any new traces of Sophia, especially so close to the area where they'd made "camp," (if you could call it that, which he didn't, really) but he figured it couldn't hurt to be keeping his eyes open while he was out there.

He emerged from the trees not far from where Carol was pacing with only the tiniest rustle of leaves around him, so quietly that since she wasn't facing his direction at that moment, she didn't know he was there. When she turned to pace the other direction and saw him, she was momentarily startled, the look on her face a mixture of surprise, fear, hope and disappointment all in one split second.

" 'S just me," he whispered. She nodded quickly and continued pacing. He walked slowly back towards the guard rail, watching her silently, then stepped over the rail and stopped. Eventually her pacing brought her to the spot where he stood, still watching her intently.

"Ya okay?" he asked in a low rumble as she stopped a few feet in front of him and sighed. She looked up at him, her face drawn and exhausted, and nodded her head once. "Sorry, dumb question," he mumbled. She didn't respond, just stared off in the distance over his shoulder. He stood there, knowing that she was lost in thought, and thinking that she really shouldn't have been out here in the gathering darkness in this state, where she was so oblivious to her surroundings, even with Dale and Andrea supposedly on watch. They couldn't watch all directions at once, after all.

"So, ya wearin' a path along the guard rail?" he asked.

"Guess so," she replied, her eyes suddenly focusing on him again. "Nothing else to do," she added sadly.

"Gonna be dark soon, so we should stay on the road, but we can walk a little ways and back if ya want…" he offered. He had a flashlight, just in case. He knew the feeling of needing to move, to do something when there was nothing else you could do - he imagined that was why she'd been pacing – but he didn't want her going off by herself. At least she'd had the sense to stay close to the others.

"Yeah," she mumbled, looking at the ground. He turned and they started walking away from the RV. There was no rush, so they didn't hurry, but it also wasn't a leisurely stroll. Their pace was somewhere in between. She was weak and exhausted from another day of worry and barely having eaten or slept in as long as she could remember, so she didn't have the energy to even try to come up with conversation. Even an awkward conversation like the one they'd had in the church – had that been the same day? Or was it months ago? It was all running together now – was too much for her to muster. Still, she felt just a little bit lighter with him next to her.

They walked in silence for about a half mile, with the sky turning pink and then a brilliant orange right before their eyes. It was the kind of thing that she would have taken a picture of, back when she had a camera or a phone to use to take pictures. She had loved taking pictures once upon a time. They had mostly been pictures of Sophia, but sunsets had also been one of her favorite subjects. It wasn't often that she could get a picture of one though, since they usually happened right around the time she was either making dinner, to be sure it was ready when Ed wanted it, or, if he was home early, dealing with Ed's unpredictable moods. Still, she had loved to watch the sunset from her kitchen window when she could chance the glance outside. They helped her remember that no matter what, there was beauty in the world. It seemed hard to swallow now, with everything that had happened and that _was still_ happening, that there could still be beauty in the world, but it gave her a tiny sliver of hope that the future would be better. She could feel tears stinging her eyes and she cursed herself for giving in to her thoughts with Daryl right next to her. The last thing she needed to do was cry in front of him, _again._

Daryl stopped when they'd gone about a half mile, not wanting to get any farther from the RV when it was so close to getting dark. He knew that he could take care of himself, but didn't want to put her in danger unnecessarily. She stopped beside him, looking as though she was mesmerized by the sunset. It was understandable, because the swirl of colors in the sky, changing every minute now, was more intense than any he could remember – not that he'd been paying too much attention to sunsets lately. He looked down into her face more carefully, seeing an unreadable combination of emotions reflected there, and couldn't help but think that she was remembering something.

"We should go back, 's gonna be dark soon," he said hesitantly, not wanting to intrude on her thoughts but knowing that darkness would fall quickly after the sun disappeared. She swatted a hand at her cheek, hoping he didn't notice that she was wiping away tears, and nodded quickly, shaking her head to push the unpleasant thoughts away. She turned around quickly to walk a step ahead of him, but his strides were longer than hers and he caught up with her easily. They walked the rest of the way back in comfortable silence. He still couldn't figure it out, but there was something about being around her. He liked it, which was more than he could say for any other human being he could think of.

She was grateful that he didn't talk to her. There were so many thoughts swirling around in her head, almost like the colors in the sky, mixed up with each other and constantly changing. She couldn't sort them out, much less explain them to anyone else, and she wouldn't have been able to listen to anyone talking to her either, right now. She guessed that the battle unfolding inside her head could very well be due at least in part to exhaustion, which she now finally, after several days running on adrenaline, felt overcoming her.

They got back to the RV just as it was getting dark. She stopped and looked out at the now faint glow in the sky, and he followed her gaze. She spoke without looking at him. "You're gonna insist that I go inside and lie down, aren't you?"

His face didn't register any change, but he felt himself smile on the inside. Keeping his eyes on the horizon, he mumbled "Yup." He heard her sigh heavily, and he shook his head. _Damn woman is just as stubborn as I am_, he thought. He found her stubbornness simultaneously frustrating and yet endearing.

She had sighed heavily for dramatic effect, but really, she felt a strange kind of relief. She didn't _want_ to lie down, she _wanted_ to sit on the guard rail until Sophia finally walked out of the woods, alive. Clearly this was more of a _wish_, since even _she_ didn't believe it would actually happen. Logically she knew that she should lie down, and she felt exhausted, she really just needed that extra nudge to make herself do it. Despite everything, it was comforting to know that she wasn't completely alone, that there was someone who cared what happened to her, possibly more than she cared about _herself_ at the moment. It didn't make the pain less, but it gave her a little more strength to deal with it all.

Still, she dreaded the night, the time when there was no escaping from her thoughts. She knew it was unlikely that she would sleep, and she knew from experience that it wouldn't be long before her feelings would overwhelm her. She'd either have nightmares or end up sobbing, possibly both. She was bracing herself for it all, and the rough night that was sure to be ahead. She wondered wearily how long she'd have to endure laying there before she could find an excuse to escape, and how many more long nights this pattern would continue for.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by Daryl's low voice, still right there beside her. "Know ya don't sleep good, 'n it's hard when ya think too much, but ya _gotta_ rest." She looked up in surprise. _Of course he knew, they were all sharing pretty close quarters,_ she reminded herself. And besides, _he always seemed to know_. The way he seemed to understand her so easily was terrifying and comforting all at the same time.

As the last of the light on the horizon disappeared, Daryl mumbled "C'mon… won't be forever, just a few hours. Now get goin,'" and nudged Carol's shoulder gently in the direction of the RV with his own shoulder. She glanced at him and smiled ever so slightly as she saw understanding in his eyes. She'd never said a thing, but he got it. Of course he did. She started walking towards the RV. "Alright, I'm going. Sheesh, you're so bossy," she mumbled, still smiling.

"Hmmmpf," he mumbled back to her. "Goin' on watch. You keep your ass in that RV, woman, or you'll have me to deal with."

"Hmmmpf," she grumbled, doing her best impression of his mumbling as she climbed the metal steps that led inside.

Daryl climbed up the ladder of the RV, relieving Dale and Andrea from the post to get whatever little rest they could. He looked around him at what the world had come to, and suddenly it was all almost surreal. As far as he could see, moonlight reflected off of the metal of long since abandoned cars. The grass was already overgrown and beginning to look wild. This was the way things were now. He shook his head at the absurdity of it all. He would have preferred to be in the woods, of course, but at least up here he could still be alone with his thoughts.


	14. Alone

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead – it would be a very different show! But I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Author's Note: Happy New Year! This chapter would have been posted yesterday, except that my husband decided to play video games with the kids all afternoon and I couldn't resist sitting down to watch the Walking Dead New Year's marathon on AMC while I had the chance! This chapter is the first time I've done more than mention things that actually happened on the show, but the two tiny little conversation sections I quoted from the show between Carol and Dale just screamed to be included. So I'll call this one an extended scene more than a deleted one, I guess. :) Hope you all enjoy it!**

**Season 2, episode 3**

**A traffic jam on the highway outside of Atlanta, Sometime during the night**

As she had predicted, Carol had spent an agonizing few hours – if it had really been that long – trying to sleep, but failing miserably. She hadn't been able to stop her thoughts from going to Sophia, and from there she had spiraled downwards into despair. She knew she'd kept the others awake with her sobbing, and that just made her feel worse, but she just hadn't been able to help herself.

She didn't remember being anywhere near ready to fall asleep, but she must have, since she was now waking up. She wondered how long she had actually slept. Her dream hadn't been as vivid or as terrifying this time, for once. She didn't even remember this one, she just had a lingering feeling of unease. It was the first time since Sophia had gone missing that she hadn't been jerked awake in terror and the first time that she hadn't had to struggle to catch her breath from panic left over from a dream.

With some difficulty, she though back to what she could remember before she had fallen asleep. She had come inside after walking with Daryl and had laid down while he'd gone on watch. She remembered that at some point before she'd fallen asleep, Daryl had come back into the RV. He'd lay on the floor for a while, but she'd been lying in bed crying, and it wasn't long after that that she'd seen him get up, saying that he was going out to look for Sophia. Andrea had followed after him almost immediately. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment at having driven the other two out of the RV with her sobbing. Carol had no idea how long ago that had been. It could have been minutes or hours ago. All she knew was that it was still very dark outside.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she sat up and listened to the quiet. Even when they weren't making any noise, the RV was so different when a few other people were in it with her. There was something eerie about the quiet right now. Ever since everything had happened, when the world had turned upside down – some people called it The Turn – complete silence had seemed a little eerie to her. It made her feel uncomfortably close to being the last person on Earth, even though she knew she wasn't. She imagined that Dale was probably on the roof above her, back on watch. She marveled at how Dale seemed to take the lion's share of the watch shifts, seemingly never needing to sleep. It was pretty impressive, especially for a man of his age. She yawned and stretched her arms above her head. There was nothing to keep her occupied in the RV, so she made her way to the door and quietly let herself out into the night air.

The sound of crickets greeted her as she stumbled quietly down the steps, then headed for the ladder that went to the top of the vehicle. "Can't sleep?" Dale asked her as reached the top of the ladder.

Carol just sighed, meeting his eyes for only a second, then without looking at him she said, "I'm gonna wait for them to come back. You can go down and sleep if you want to."

Dale was certain that Carol wasn't ready to be on watch alone, which everything she'd been through, and having barely slept at all in the past few days. He also couldn't bear to leave his post until Andrea had made it back safely. She looked up at him then. "No, we can keep watch together," he told her. They walked a few steps along the roof of the RV, looking out at the graveyard of abandoned cars that had once been a highway that stretched before them.

Wanting to know which direction to focus her attention, Carol asked, "Which way did they go?"

Dale took another step in the direction they were already facing and pointed off into the woods, and Carol nodded. She could see the concern in his face even though he didn't say a word about it.

They stood in silence for what felt like a long time. It wasn't quite comfortable, but it wasn't quite awkward. There was an understanding that they were both worried, and both were lost in their own thoughts. Carol tried to focus on watching the landscape, looking for any changes, any movement, listening for any sounds other than the normal night sounds of the woods, _anything_, trying not to think about any one thing in particular for too long. There were no safe topics, because everything would eventually lead her back to something that would hurt if she let the thought follow its natural path. _Because every thought eventually led back to Sophia._

She was sitting now, and she glanced up at Dale, saw that his face reflected some of the same worry that she felt. It had become obvious to most of the group that he cared about Andrea in a fatherly way, despite the fact that his concern clearly drove Andrea crazy sometimes. Many times it was the same between blood-related parents and children as well.

"You don't need to worry. She's with Daryl." She looked out at night, then back up at Dale. "If something happens he can protect her. You hear what I'm saying?"

As much as Carol was concerned about Daryl and Andrea out in the woods, she really did believe that Andrea was safe with him. It was just a feeling that she had, and she couldn't explain why. She just knew that _she_ always felt safe with Daryl. No matter what anyone else might think or say about him, how tough he might act or how much he might swear, she knew that he was a good man.

Dale continued to peer anxiously out into the night. "Sorry, all I heard was 'if something happens.'" He didn't have the same insight into Daryl and therefore couldn't have her confidence, and Carol understood that. She let the subject go, knowing first hand that there was nothing further she could say to reassure him. He paused, then asked, "You mind keeping watch?" She felt panic rise in her as he started to give her his rifle.

"I don't know how to use that."

"I won't be gone long. If you see anything, call out. I'm not going far. I'll hear you." And then without waiting for her to answer, he was down the RV ladder to the ground and was walking away, just like that. Carol looked around nervously. She saw him disappear between the abandoned cars, and then quickly lost sight of him. She had no idea where he was going, only that he, too, had disappeared.

Panic was rising in her chest, despite the fact that he had said that he wasn't going far. She fought against the "What ifs" that struggled to hijack her thoughts. She thought she heard a twig snap and stood up, wheeling around in the direction she thought the sound had come from. There was nothing moving anywhere as far as she could see, and she continued looking around nervously, turning so many times where she stood that she almost made herself dizzy. She sank back into the chair and took deep breaths, trying not to let her fear overcome her. She hated that she felt so weak, so defenseless.

She was alone. While in her old life she would have seen time alone as a godsend, in this new world being alone was terrifying. Of course, if the alternative was Ed, she still preferred to be alone, but each held their own set of dangers. It hit her that everyone had left her, though not all of them had done it purposely. _Everyone._ She shivered, even though she wasn't cold. Every creak, every rustle, every single noise that she heard suddenly thundered in her ears. This _was_ what it was like to be alone at the end of the world.

She reminded herself that she was keeping watch. That she needed to be alert, to be strong. That they would be back.

That _he_ would be back.

He had cared enough to venture into the woods, in the dark, with the danger of walkers that could be literally anywhere, in any numbers, for _her_. He hadn't gone because he wanted to, or because he was leaving her alone. Exactly the opposite. He'd gone for her, _for Sophia, _and he would be back. That much she knew.

She made herself take deep breaths. She'd always been good at blocking out the pain before, she'd had no choice… but this was so much worse, and her old coping mechanisms weren't working.

No matter how she tried to hold out hope, it was hard not to feel alone and very, very, small, up here in the air without another human being in sight, looking around at what the world had become. She had not lost everyone… only the one who was the most important to her in the world. She hugged her knees to her chest, sitting there huddled in Dale's lawn chair as once again, tears quietly fell down her cheeks.


	15. Breakdown

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead – it would be a very different show! But I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Season 2, episode 3**

**A traffic jam on the highway outside of Atlanta, Sometime during the night (probably closer to morning but still dark)**

Dale had come back about twenty minutes later from whatever mission he'd sent himself on, without explanation, and they'd settled back into their silent waiting game. Finally, two small beams of light, Daryl and Andrea's flashlights, had emerged from the woods and headed back down the highway towards them silently, weaving their way around the cars and the occasional debris or fallen walkers. It was immediately clear from the way they moved that they were coming back without Sophia. Dale breathed a sigh of relief to see that they were both safe, especially Andrea. Carol, on the other hand, grabbed the small backpack that she had brought up to the roof with her and stormed down the ladder as quickly as she could. She wanted to be back in the RV before she fell apart again, as she knew that she was about to, before she had to do it in front of the others once again. Just because it had happened before – more than once now – didn't mean she wanted it to happen again if she could avoid it. The door of the RV banged shut behind her loudly, louder than she'd intended.

She managed to get inside the RV and partway to the bed, to the section of the floor where Daryl had been laying earlier that night, before she collapsed. Her knees simply buckled under her and she was suddenly on the ground, on her hands and knees, gasping for air and sobbing all over again. It was like she was reliving the moment Sophia had run into the woods with the two walkers just behind her once again, only this time it was worse, because that had been days ago. Everyone knew that when children disappeared, the longer they were gone, the less likely they were to come back.

_It's not getting easier,_ her mind shrieked in agony,_ it's never going to get easier. _On the contrary, it was getting_ harder_, because she was losing hope, and hope was all she had left. This time was also worse because this time she was alone. Out on the road, she'd had a small army of people supporting her, holding her up both literally and figuratively, and she could see now that it'd made a difference. Here on the floor, she had no one. The longer this living hell went on, the more times she cried herself to sleep only to be haunted by her nightmares, the more alone she felt. Once again, she felt like the last person left on Earth, and it was horrible.

She cried so hard that no sound escaped from her mouth, her eyes having clamped themselves shut and the rest of her senses completely shut off. She was shaking so violently that someone who didn't know what was going on might have thought she was having a seizure. It was no wonder why she didn't hear Daryl come into the RV, leaving Andrea outside to talk to Dale about her gun.

He saw her on the floor and he knew she'd seen him coming back without her daughter. He'd seen her silhouette descend the ladder as they approached the RV and had heard the angry bang of the door. He'd thought that she'd be furious with him. He'd actually come in expecting to have to verbally defend himself, or worse, face her disappointment, but certainly not this. He'd never known how to handle a crying woman, and it seemed like lately she cried _so much_… and he understood why, just not what he could do about it. He couldn't help but feel like it was all because of him. If he had only managed to find Sophia, she wouldn't be hurting like this. In his mind, this was all _his_ fault.

Not surprisingly, she didn't hear him coming in. The noise in her head, in her ears, in every part of her body, blocked out everything happening around her. The world could have been on fire, she could have been surrounded by walkers, and she never would have noticed. Seeing her there like that tugged at his heart and he felt even guiltier than he had before. He hadn't even know that was possible, but apparently it was.

He squeezed into the cramped space where she had collapsed and knelt down beside her, slowly, wondering what he should do. "Carol," he said firmly but gently, trying to get her attention, but it was no use. He could see that she didn't even know he was there. He bit his bottom lip, nervous, but knowing that he had to fix this, knowing that he would do just about anything right now to make her stop crying. He felt like he owed her that much after coming back without Sophia, _again._

Very slowly and very awkwardly he lifted his arms, putting them gently around her. He knew that this was something that people did, though he couldn't remember ever doing this for a single soul. Not since his mother had died so many years ago had he held anyone else, or been held himself. His mother had been the only one who had done that for him, as far as he could remember. Since then, touch of any kind had been something he'd avoided at all costs, since the only kinds he had experienced since then had been beatings at the hand of his father. So when he put his arms around her, he did so very tentatively, because this was just not something he _did_. He didn't touch people on purpose, nor did he let others touch him, at all. The only small exceptions that he'd made to this rule so far, as far as he could remember, had all been since he'd met her, and all of these exceptions had been _for her_. He didn't know why, but she made him want to break that crucial rule.

As soon as his arms were around her, she started fighting against him. She wasn't a match for his strength by any stretch of the imagination, but she pushed back harder against him than he had expected. He didn't want to fight her, and could see that she was only struggling because she didn't really know where she was, what was going on, or who was holding onto her. On top of everything else, now she was panicking. For all she knew, he could be a walker.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had leaned down so that his mouth was next to her ear and was whispering "Ssssshhhhhhh, Carol. 's me. 's Daryl. You're OK… You're OK…" It took a moment, but he could see that his words were getting through because he felt her stop struggling. Her sobbing continued, however, even harder now, if that was possible. He had never before seen anyone cry this hard, to the point where they didn't make a sound. Even he himself, in as much pain as he had been in his life, had never done that. He pulled his arms just a little tighter around her. "I'm sorry," he murmured over and over. "I'm sorry."

It took a while, but eventually she ran out of energy to cry. Her breakdown had been so intense that at some point, she had just run out of tears. It was some time before her breathing slowed down and she stopped gulping for air. It was around this time when she had very slowly once again become conscious of the world around her. She was surprised to find that she was pressed against Daryl's chest, so close that she could hear his heartbeat, his arms still wrapped around her.

Though he had felt extremely uncomfortable about putting his arms around her like that in the first place, his need to comfort her had outweighed his discomfort. He simply had not been able to stand to see her in that state, crumpled on the floor, and it was the only way he could think of to calm her down. As she gradually relaxed, he became more and more aware of the fact that he still had his arms around her, and of how he had pulled her very close to him. The more he thought about the position they were still sitting in, the more nervous _he_ became. As her breathing evened out, he slowly released his grip on her, then awkwardly let his arms drop, leaning back on his hands, which he had stretched out behind him as much as space allowed. He watched her carefully for signs as to what he should do next. She sat back on her knees, taking deep breaths and avoiding his eyes.

She slowly remembered some of what had happened – that she had collapsed on the floor – and she knew that Daryl must have come in and seen her like that. Her mind guessed at the details that she couldn't remember, such as the fact that he must have held onto her while she cried, based on the position in which she had found herself.

She was _mortified_. She had done it again, completely lost it in front of him, except this time was _so_ _much worse_. She couldn't ever remember breaking down like that, not in all the times she'd thought she couldn't have cried harder.

The open space on the floor where they sat, now slightly apart, was small, so even after withdrawing from each other, they still felt awkwardly close. Daryl was watching her carefully, but only because she was so determined to look away. He was trying to read something into her behavior, figure out whether he had helped or made things worse. He wondered what had possessed him to do any of it, anyway.

"Sorry," she whispered, wiping tears from her face for what felt like the thousandth time in only a few days. She continued to stare at the floor.

"Whatcha think you got to be sorry for?" he asked, genuinely perplexed.

She shrugged. "Whatever that was, I guess."

He shook his head slowly, which made no difference because she still wasn't looking at him. "Ya don't got nothin to be sorry for, okay? _Nothin._"

She nodded quickly, wiping a few stray remaining tears from her face.

"You OK? You wanna sit somewhere… besides the floor?" he asked her gently. Nervously.

She nodded again, and slowly looked up at him, trying to smile. He had shown more caring towards her in the past ten minutes than Ed had during their entire marriage, and she didn't know how to react. She was too embarrassed to speak. He stood up carefully in the small space, then offered her his hand and pulled her up as well. He let her hand drop slowly.

They sat across the small table from each other, neither of them speaking, for what felt like a long time. His hands were clasped together and he was staring at them, fidgeting with them on the table. Now _she_ was watching _him_. She was completely drained, and didn't have the energy to do anything but sit. Even that felt like too much at the moment.

He decided to be the one to speak first. "_I'm_ the one who's sorry," he mumbled. She looked shocked, and shook her head. He didn't see the gesture, because he was still starting at his hands.

"Why in the world would you need to be sorry?" she whispered, taken aback.

He looked up at her for the first time since they'd sat down at the table. "I didn't find her, Sophia. Again. I failed you. _Again_," his voice wasn't even a whisper, and his eyes darted back down at his hands.

"Daryl, I… How can you say that?" she began, shocked. "You're the one who's done the _most_. Everyone else has given up."

He just shook his head and shrugged. _I can't stand to see you so sad_, he thought to himself, but he didn't say it out loud. _It's my fault._

_How can you possibly think that any of this is your fault? You are the only thing keeping me going,_ she thought to herself. _If you weren't here, I think I would curl up and die._ But didn't say it out loud. She rested her elbows on the table, then put her head in her hands, closing her eyes. She was just so tired, in every way that a person could be tired.

They sat that way for a long time, sitting across the small table from each other, both of them lost inside their own heads, not looking at each other or speaking, but drawing strength from being there together.

Finally, as the first hint of light was coming into the sky, she sat up straight and sighed. "I'm going to lie down for just a little while, before the night's completely over," she said.

"Good idea," he replied.

"Are you… gonna be here? Or are you going out… there somewhere?" she waved her hand toward the window to indicate the world outside the RV.

He glanced out the window. _It __**would**__ be nice to get out of here for a while_, he thought… "What'll make you feel better, if I stay or go?" he asked softly. She was getting used to the rough and yet simultaneously gentle voice that he only used around her. She couldn't deny that she liked it.

"I _always_ feel better with you around," she whispered.

"A'ight then," he replied, "I'll be here."

She stood up and ever so slowly, hoping that he wouldn't flinch, put her hand lightly on his shoulder. He saw her hand coming towards him as if in slow motion, and was surprised himself when he didn't pull back. He could feel the warmth of her hand through his shirt, and he didn't hate it, which was something. She gave him a sad smile and squeezed his shoulder gently. "Thank you," she whispered, and then before he knew it, her hand was gone and she was halfway to the bed at the back of the RV. He watched her, still feeling her touch on his shoulder, wondering at how gentle it had been.

_No, thank you,_ he thought to himself, but he didn't say it out loud.


	16. Alright

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead – it would be a very different show! But I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Author's Note: Wow, you guys! I'm glad you seemed to like the previous chapter, **_**Breakdown**_**, as much as I did. I'm starting to feel guilty though, like I'm torturing poor Carol because all I've done for what feels like many chapters in a row is make her cry. She gets a little bit of reprieve this time, though. Thanks so much to those who've left me reviews! You are all very generous with your compliments, and I appreciate it immensely.**

**Season 2, episode 4**

**The Greene Family's Farm, day**

After her breakdown the night before, she had slept for a few hours – more than she had expected, and blissfully without the nightmares she usually suffered – out of sheer exhaustion. When she had awoken, she found Daryl busying himself inside the RV. She immediately felt appreciation that he had stayed, as he had said he would. She wondered if knowing that he was there had contributed to her peaceful sleep.

Among the things that he had done while she slept was to assemble a collection of non-perishables, such as bottles of Gatorade and water and a jar of peanut butter, that they could leave behind in case Sophia found her way back before they could return there to check for her. Together, they wrote a large note for the girl, using a combination of materials they'd found in the various cars nearby, on the back window of one of the cars nearby. Carol was touched and surprised by his concern. He had already explained to her _why_ he cared, about both of them, when they were back at that little church they'd found in the woods, but it continued to surprise her nonetheless. She certainly wasn't accustomed to feeling cared about by anyone except Sophia. Quite the opposite actually, she was used to being told that she was useless, and worse. It was difficult to believe anything else after so long.

When they had written the note and assembled the food on the trunk of the old car, she knew the time had come to leave that spot on the interstate. It hurt her to admit it, but even _she_ knew that they couldn't stay there forever. She consoled herself with the fact that at least Daryl hadn't given up, even if the others had, that _he_ was still looking for Sophia.

Their three vehicle caravan – Daryl on his motorcycle, followed by the silver SUV and Dale's RV at the back – had rumbled up to the Greene's secluded farmhouse. They had immediately been told by Lori and Rick that there'd been a hunting accident, but that Carl was alive. That was the end of their little meeting on the porch.

Carol watched as Daryl disappeared across the vast expanse of grass that surrounded the farmhouse. There were groves of trees in the distance. Daryl always gravitated towards the outdoors when the choices were between that and people, so she wasn't surprised. Everyone else had just melted away, whether they'd gone inside or somewhere else on the property. She'd been standing on the large, wrap around porch lost in thought, and now she found herself there alone.

It was a beautiful, large porch, and she walked casually along the railing, finding that it wrapped much farther around the house than she had originally noticed. It was the kind of porch that she had always coveted in her previous life. There was just something about this area of a house that gave the advantages of being both inside and outside at the same time, the kind of place that just seemed to call to people to sit and relax. She'd never had any desire to live on a farm, but she had always envied the owners of any house with large front porches, never having had one herself. Not that she would have had any time to sit and relax on one, but still.

She found a spot at the far end of the porch, almost at the back of the house because it wrapped around so far, and leaned against the railing. She imagined that she could stand here for hours and not be noticed, which sounded both blissful and terrifying at the same time. After the events of the previous night, and the previous few days before that, she felt numb. The thought of hiding here in the shadows, not having to talk to a soul, sounded simultaneously wonderful and torturous. As much as she didn't want to be alone at the end of the world, she also didn't want to be _with_ anyone. This jumble of feelings was too much for even _her_ to understand herself, and she tried her best to clear her mind and just look out at the rolling hills before her. She could almost convince herself that the past few weeks – had it been weeks? – were all a bad dream. But then, she wasn't sure she wanted them to be… because that would mean that her life _before_ the Turn was still her life, and she couldn't bear that thought either.

No, it was better if she was just here, where she was standing, not thinking, not hoping, not feeling. Just being here on this porch in the silence. It should be enough for her that her life was not in danger at this exact second, from man or walker. Wishing for anything else just felt greedy.

She leaned harder against the railing, hands dangling in front of her, and closed her eyes. She willed herself not to conjure up any images in the blackness, but she couldn't stop it. Her daughter's beautiful face appeared before her eyes, smiling gently at her, and she felt a single tear fall down her cheek. _Dammit_, she thought. She had been sure that she'd run out of tears, but somehow her supply seemed to be never ending.

Hearing the floorboards creak ever so slightly nearby, she opened her eyes and turned slowly to see Daryl walking hesitantly towards her. His expression was serious, but then, he wasn't one to walk around with a smile on his face. She had noticed that he rarely smiled at all, even when he was being kind to her. As long as she'd known him, there hadn't been many things to smile about anyway, certainly not since Sophia went missing. Because of all this, his serious expression didn't concern her, or stop her from feeling glad to see him.

Though she had purposely sought out this spot to be alone, she had been feeling isolated there in the corner, hearing faint voices filter out from inside the house, and she was actually relieved to have company. Of all the people in the group, she was glad that he was the one who had found her there, though she was surprised that he had wandered back to the house so soon. She'd expected him to be gone for hours yet, as he usually was when he took off.

He walked slowly over to stand beside her, stopping about a foot away and turning to look over the railing into the distance.

"Y'alright?" he asked in his gravely tone, without looking back at her.

"I think so," she whispered hesitantly, still not quite trusting her voice to come out without breaking. Seeing Sophia's face again in her mind, even just for a second, had tugged on the thread by which she was barely holding on. As numb as she felt, she still feared that she would lose it again if she wasn't careful with both her words and her thoughts.

" 'S hard to believe this place ain't far from the interstate," he said slowly, looking out at the property as she'd been doing only a little while earlier. "Feels so peaceful. Like the rest of it's all a bad dream."

"I was just thinking something a lot like that," she replied quietly, looking out over the land that had probably looked exactly the same before the world had turned upside down.

They heard a screen door bang around the corner, and two voices speaking to each other, and then fading into the distance, but never saw the owners of those voices. Carol thought fleetingly that this might be her new favorite spot… if, of course, she had had the energy or the desire to _have _a favorite spot, or a favorite _anything_, ever again. Somehow it suddenly seemed pointless, all of it.

She closed her eyes and sighed, hanging her head, still leaning on the railing.

Daryl watched the instant change come over her, and he stood still, torn between doing something and doing nothing. He honestly didn't know what was appropriate in this situation. When she'd been hysterical the night before, it'd been much easier to know the correct response, but this… this was so much harder. He could see that she was suffering, and yet, what was the right thing to do? _Was_ there anything he could do to make it stop? And if so, _what?_

He fleetingly wondered why he felt so drawn to help her, but really, he knew the answer to that. Ever since that day at the quarry, when he'd seen her with that asshole husband of hers, he'd cared what happened to her. He may not be on good terms with or have any understanding of any other human being in this crazy fucked up world, but what Ed had been doing to her, that was the _one_ thing he did understand. He knew how much it destroyed a person inside. He had had years to process what had happened to him as a kid – not that he had it figured out, mind you – but he'd been able to at least put some distance between it and himself. He knew that he was fucked up – he could tell because he didn't react to anything the way other people seemed to – but at least he'd learned to cope as best he could. He looked at Carol, and he saw himself so long ago, and yet also himself today. He still didn't know how to help her, but she was the _only_ person in the whole goddamn world that he could actually relate to, simple as that. So he'd made it his goal to watch out for her, because she'd been through enough. _More_ than enough.

Daryl figured that since he didn't know what to do, he'd just stand where he was and see if he could figure it out, assuming there was anything he _could_ do, to help her. He was a tracker, which meant he was usually very observant by nature. People weren't his thing, but he decided that there must be able to train himself to use his tracking skills to figure out people – not even people, just _her_ – if he really tried. It was just a new challenge, and he was always up for a challenge. He continued to watch her carefully.

_I'm here,_ he thought to himself, but didn't say it out loud.

He wasn't facing her, but he was watching her out of the corner of his eye. The look on her face was heartbreaking, and he knew that as she stood there with her eyes closed, she was working through something.

She'd been leaning on the railing with her eyes closed for what felt like an eternity. She assumed that he'd gone by now and she just hadn't noticed, and she felt an emptiness spread out through her, the feeling of being alone at the end of the world filling her with dread once again. However, when she opened her eyes and glanced at the spot where he'd been, he was still beside her, looking out into the distance. The emptiness she felt was immediately replaced by a feeling of warmth that she couldn't quite identify. All she knew was, she was glad that he was still there. She felt a tiny hint of a smile sweep slowly across her face.

Watching her face change when she opened her eyes and saw him still there, he knew that just standing there had been the right thing to do, and he was glad that he had fought the urge to run when he had started wondering if she would rather have been alone.

"Y'alright?" he asked again, turning to look at her now, not sure what else to say.

Her smile was sad, but it reached her eyes as she nodded. "Much better," she replied, feeling her smile finally even reach her voice. _Thanks to you,_ she thought to herself, but didn't say that part out loud.

She sighed, and as much as she was enjoying the calming feeling of standing beside him, she realized how long she'd been there, and suddenly felt like she should be making herself useful. "I should see if I can help with anything around here, make myself useful," she announced, pushing herself up off of the railing. "Thank you for… caring," she said simply, locking eyes with him for a few seconds.

" 'S nuthin," he mumbled, breaking that eye contact and looking at the floor. She walked behind him on her way into the house, laying her hand ever so gently on his arm for just a split second as she went by. Before he had the chance to react, she'd already removed it. Again, the warmth lingered after her touch was gone, and he had to admit that he didn't hate the sensation.

He heard the screen door close, and he decided to walk the property and see more of this new place, wondering how long they'd be able to stay, knowing better than to think they would be safe there for too long.


	17. Breathe

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead – it would be a very different show! But I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Season 2, episode 4**

**The Greene Family's Farm, day**

After she'd left Daryl on the front porch earlier, she'd helped out around the house as well as around the camp for a while, busying herself as best she could. That's what she'd been telling herself she needed: to try to find anything that she could do to occupy her hands, but mostly to occupy her mind. It didn't work of course, and Sophia was always there at the front of her thoughts… but it helped just the tiniest bit to stay busy.

A few hours later, however, she ended up back at that back corner of the porch. She'd noticed that if she didn't go quite all the way around, she could see and hear a lot of the comings and goings of the farmhouse and the property around it without being observed. She liked the peace.

It was from that spot on the porch that she watched Daryl stride across the grassy expanse in front of the house, and then Rick catch up to him. She'd heard someone say that Daryl was going back out to look for Sophia alone that day, since Shane's ankle was still sprained from the ill-fated yet successful run to the high school where they'd lost Otis, and Rick had was still recovering from giving three units of blood for Carl's transfusion. She heard Daryl tell Rick something about being "better on his own."

She marveled at the fact that he was going back out there once again, at how determined he was to find a girl who had laid eyes on only a few times at most. He'd explained it all to her, the reasons why he wanted to help, but she simply couldn't process the fact that someone besides she herself cared that much about Sophia. Even Ed would never in a million years have been that determined, and he was Sophia's _father_. Not only that, but how could he – or _anyone_ – possibly think he was better off on his own out there, where he could stumble across any number of walkers at any time, anywhere? It was unfathomable to her. But then again, Daryl Dixon seemed like a guy who could look out for himself. He wasn't carrying that heavy looking crossbow for decoration, after all.

She wondered about another comment she heard pass between the two men as well. She heard Rick tell Daryl "We got a base. We can get this search properly organized now," and then a few seconds later,

"It lets you off the hook. You don't owe us anything." To which Daryl responded, as he turned to walk away, "My other plans fell through." She was surprised she'd heard the last part, considering the distance, but the sound had carried just right, and she was certain that she'd heard him correctly. What in the world could they be talking about? They couldn't be talking about Daryl _leaving_, surely? In such a small group as this, someone would have said something about it by now… wouldn't they?

Carol tried to pry from her memory the first time she'd seen Daryl and his brother back in that nightmare of a mess outside of Atlanta. Had it been on the highway? In the camp by the quarry? Down by the quarry itself? She couldn't quite remember how the Dixon brothers had come to join the group, or if she'd heard anything in particular about them at the time… she'd been somewhat _preoccupied_ with managing Ed – not that she had ever really been able to manage Ed Peletier – and worrying about Sophia's safety as the world had seemed to tilt on its axis. No, somehow the Dixon brothers' arrival was one more hazy part of that terrible time, back before… she sighed heavily, putting up a roadblock to that train of thought. _STOP, _she told herself. _Do not go there_. The Dixon Brothers' arrival would just have to remain a mystery to her, because the details lay down a path that she would not be following, at least not today.

…

Daryl strode away from Rick, grumbling, "My other plans fell through," over his shoulder. He didn't know if he'd said it loud enough to be heard from that distance, and he didn't really care.

He'd been with this group for a while now. Maybe at first he'd acted – maybe he'd told them? – like he didn't intend to stay, but a helluva lotta shit had gone down since then. The original plan was the he and Merle were gonna bail, but Merle wasn't fuckin here, so that plan was shot to hell. Yeah, he liked to be on his own. He liked to _think_ he didn't need the rest of them. But this wasn't the same world it had been not too long ago, and even _he_ had to admit that he wasn't gonna be able to survive on his own anymore. He had to sleep sometime, and it wasn't smart to let your guard down if someone wasn't watching your back. What did people say?_ Better the devil you know than the one you don't,_ or something like that?

People had always been assholes, and a lot of them were worse now that there was no one left to enforce any kinda laws. Some people were just tryin to survive, but others were downright evil. On top of that, now ya had to worry about fuckin corpses walkin around tryin to sneak up on you and _eat the flesh right off you_. It was beyond fucked up. So no, he wasn't gonna be strikin out on his own. That pissed him off to no end, that he was now stuck depending on other people, because most people he'd met in his life were assholes. Granted, this group turned out to be kinda alright, not _so_ bad as he'd originally thought. But _still_.

Somehow with Merle gone, his thinking had changed. Hell, his behavior had changed. He could recognize that. He didn't have to be in the shadow of someone who seemed hellbent on treating every person he met like shit. Merle claimed that everyone else in the world were the assholes, and a lotta them may have been, but in reality he was just as big an asshole as the rest of em, if not bigger. Merle was determined to screw em all over before they could screw _him _over, and bring everyone down, Daryl right along with them. Yeah, Daryl missed his brother, but he could also recognize the change that had taken place in himself since Merle'd been missing. Did he want to see him again? Of course, he was family. But the whole thing was so goddamn complicated.

However, for the time being it wasn't an issue. Merle wasn't here, Daryl _was_ here, Sophia was still missing, and Carol… well, he couldn't see how someone as fucked up as he was could be of any help to her, but for some reason she seemed to think he could. She treated him like she treated everyone else – with kindness – and it confused the hell out of him. The idea that he could actually help her get through anything made him about as uncomfortable as he'd ever been in his life, but he kinda liked the feeling at the same time. That was fucked up in itself, because how the hell do you like an uncomfortable feeling? Not that he could let himself _believe_ that he could help her at all, except hopefully, just maybe finding her daughter. Tracking, that he knew. The rest of it, well… she must be wrong, because he knew _he_ wasn't good for shit. That had been made abundantly clear to him all his life.

What it came down to was this: He had actually started to feel a tiny little bit like _someone_ around these people, for the first time in his life. Not all of em, mind you. Most of em'd still probably rather see him go than stay. If nothing else, he figured they put up with him because he brought in meat for the group when he went out hunting. But hell, it was something. More than anyone else had ever needed him for before. Only thing he'd been needed for up til now was to be either a punching bag or other object of abuse for his asshole father, or a follower, a henchman of his asshole older brother. These other people, well, who the hell knew?

He still needed his space, had to keep a good amount of distance between himself and them, but being the hunter of the group seemed to help give him exactly that. It was a perfectly rational reason to go off on his own for hours at a time. Between hunting and looking for Sophia, he got the benefits of being alone at least some of the time, along with having somebody watchin his back while he slept. For now, it seemed to work out alright.

And there was that thought again. _Sophia. _A tie to the group, however temporary.

_Poor little thing_, he thought, _out there with the walkers_. Daryl wasn't a softie for much in this world, but combine a kid lost in the woods at the end of the world, with man eating walkers out there roaming around and the kid's mother who not only had to suffer through knowing all that, but had already suffered god knows how many years of abuse from an asshole husband… the two things mirrored his life a little too closely for him to _not_ feel like he had to do something about it.

Could he walk away from this group if he had to? Sure. But where was he gonna _go_? He was already here, had kinda gotten used to these people – even though some of them were idiots – and for once in his life he could actually _help_ someone. He couldn't explain even to himself the connection he'd made with Carol. That was a whole new thing for him. It felt good to help someone for once… Not that he'd _been_ much help to her – Carol – as far as he was concerned, but he'd sure as hell been trying.

And so after all that had happened since he had joined the group, then along comes Rick, basically telling him _Hey, you're free to go. No need to stay here anymore_. What the hell did that mean? Did Rick expect him to just _leave?_ Did Rick _want_ him to leave? Was that who Rick thought he was? Some asshole who just wanted to leave? Is that how he was acting? _DID he just want to leave?_

His head was swimming with questions, with thoughts, with memories – recent ones along with the ones from long ago that he told himself he was done remembering – and _**it was pissing him off**__._ What the hell was he supposed to do with all these thoughts? He reached the end of the grassy expanse around the Greene family's farmhouse and pushed silently into the trees, his mind ready for the "relief" of focusing on tracking Sophia. That was what he knew, how he exorcised his demons, and he was glad for the chance to clear his mind as he slipped into the woods before him.

…

Not too long after the exchange she witnessed between Rick and Daryl, and shortly after she then watched Daryl stride once again off into the trees in the distance, Carol found herself in the back of the silver SUV that she'd ridden in onto the property the day before, with Shane driving and Andrea in the passenger seat. They were riding back to the spot on the highway that they had abandoned only yesterday.

Carol's stomach was clenched in both nervous anticipation and fear. Nervous anticipation because her desperate hope to find that Sophia was there and alive could not be extinguished, no matter how unrealistic she knew it was. Fear that when they got there, they would find the scene exactly as they had left it, making it clear that she had _not_ been there. She wasn't sure she could handle seeing the spot again, untouched. The longer the search went on, the bleaker the outlook was, and she was painfully aware of this. She knew that the rest of the group felt for her, but they didn't – _couldn't_ – really understand. Of this she was certain. That thought by itself made her feel keenly alone and desperate all over again. She fought back the sting of tears that were threatening to reveal themselves as they neared the spot, determined not to cry in front of these two, at least not this time. She told herself that she would be strong, tired of receiving so much pity from the other members of the group.

When they arrived at the place where Daryl had written the note for Sophia on the car window, and where they had left the bottles and jars of provisions lined up on the trunk in front of it, the scene was just as she'd feared. No sign of Sophia, no sign of any change from the day before whatsoever. Carol walked numbly to stand beside the car and reread the message to herself several times. "Sophia stay here. We will come back every day." She closed her eyes and tried to imagine repeating this process every day. Having to go through this fear, disappointment and pain _day after day_. The thought was almost more than she could bear.

She lifted her eyes to look past the slowly decaying cars in front of her to the trees beyond the guardrail, trying to rewind time using only her mind, in order to do something – _anything_ – differently and prevent this nightmare from happening. She'd been coping with the end of the world pretty well, she thought, once she'd put the pickaxe through Ed's head… until _this_. Losing Sophia felt like the blow that had knocked her down and would continue to hold her there, and she didn't feel like she'd ever be able to get back up.

She continued to stand by the car, unsure of what to do next, feeling frozen to the spot. This place was her last tangible connection to her poor Sophia, and she knew that in another few minutes she'd have to leave it, again, only to come back the next day and repeat the whole terrible process… How could she _do_ this? _How_? It was simple, _she couldn't. _

She felt herself start to hyperventilate, and she reached out and put both hands on top of the trunk of the car for support. She knew that Andrea and Shane were both watching her from a short distance away. She could feel their eyes boring into the back of her head. No, she would _not _cry in front of them. She _wouldn't_. There were tears in her eyes threatening to fall, but she refused to blink and allow them to be released. She held her eyes as wide open as possible, taking slow, careful breaths in and out, leaning heavily on the car for support, and gradually felt the panic in her chest subsiding. _Don't think_, she commanded herself. _For God's sake, don't think. Just stand here and breathe. Just breathe. You can do it. Breathe, in and out. Breathe._

Separately, Andrea and Shane both tried to find words that would ease Carol's pain, but the truth was that nothing anyone could say would make it better, and they knew it. Neither knew the woman in front of them very well, and though they wished they could help her somehow, they were both at a complete loss to do so. She shooed both of them away in turn, kindly, but as firmly as she could.

There was only one person, besides Sophia herself of course, whose presence would have made any difference to her, and he was out once again, looking for her daughter in the walker-filled wilderness. He seemed to have even more confidence than she did herself that Sophia was still out there, that there was any chance they would find her. She tried to focus her mind on the feeling of peace she got when he was beside her. She didn't understand how or why he had that effect on her, but she needed it so very badly that she had decided not to question it, and so she tried to summon it somehow without him actually being there. It wasn't the same, for sure, but it gave her something to focus on besides her pain as her breathing slowly returned to normal.

_Just breathe_, she told herself.


	18. Overwhelmed

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to The Walking Dead – except a bunch of merchandise. But I'm having a LOT of fun filling in some of the gaps in the story.**

**Season 2, episode 4**

**The Greene Family's Farm, afternoon**

Carol sat in the RV with tears in her eyes. She was really and truly touched by the lengths that Daryl had gone through to ease her pain. Not only had he been out to look for Sophia _again_ today, _alone_, because none of the others were able to go along, but this supposed tough guy has just brought her a _flower_ – a Cherokee Rose, to be specific – in a beer bottle for a vase, telling her the story behind the flower, which was so appropriate to her sad situation. She had been so overwhelmed by his kindness that she had been speechless, and again tears had fallen from her eyes. She knew that he had probably assumed that the tears were for Sophia, and of course indirectly, they were. However, this time, the tears she had shed and the lump in her throat that prevented her from even uttering a small "thank you" in response, which was so unlike Carol, who was always so polite, were caused by something else.

Yet again, Daryl Dixon had managed, with the absolute simplest of gestures, to prove himself perhaps the most thoughtful man on the planet, as far as she was concerned. If she had been bowled over by his thoughtfulness when he had brought her a _water bottle_ – which she absolutely had been, twice – then there were just no words that could describe what she felt at this simple offering. _He had brought her a flower_. And not just _any_ flower, a flower that was said to be planted by the tears that mothers shed for their lost children. If there was anything more beautiful that one human being could do for another, someone who they knew was hurting so badly over the loss of a child, she did not know what it could be.

If she had not been sitting down when he had told her the story of that flower, she feared that she may have _fallen_ down just from the emotions she felt over this small gesture. It was the single most wonderful thing anyone had done for her in her entire adult life. She wished that she could have at least thanked the man who had once again shown her such incredible kindness, despite the rough exterior that he seemed to show to everyone else. It seemed unfair that he didn't know just how very much it had meant to her. She told herself that at some point she would do just that. It was only right, after he had been so good to her. _Why was he so good to her, anyway?_ There was certainly nothing she'd done that made her deserve so much kindness, or at least that was how she felt.

She realized with a start that she was doing it again… repeating Ed's words back to herself as if they were the truth now that Ed wasn't around to do it for her. It had become more than a habit over the years, and it was now second nature for her to put herself down. She had fought against the notion for a long time when they were first married, but after enough time, enough repetition and enough of his abuse, she had internalized it.

She _knew_ logically that it wasn't true, but, well, the bad was always easier to believe than the good, somehow. It was easier to believe that all of this – the many misfortunes in her life – had happened because she deserved it. Now Ed was gone, and she'd tried to break the habit of belittling herself as he had done… but she had long ago lost the will to fight against this notion. It would take a lot of work to undo it, and it certainly wasn't going to be easy.

Pushing Ed and the many ways he had destroyed her from her mind, she looked around her at the clean RV. She had worked so hard to tidy it up – it had been her big project this afternoon – and as she now finished the last of the sewing that she had been working on when Daryl had come by, she wondered what she should tackle next. Keeping herself busy couldn't take away her pain, but it at least helped her not dwell on it quite so much. She decided to venture outside and see what needed to be done around the camp, maybe take a walk. The weather was pleasant enough, and maybe it would help her mood to explore a little bit. The fences surrounding the farm didn't guarantee their safety of course, but it did help ease their minds.

She stood up and put her sewing away, remembering Daryl's look of surprise when he'd first come in, saying that he'd thought he was in the wrong place. She smiled slightly at that joke he had shyly made. He wasn't much for words, so the fact that he had put forth the effort to joke with her meant all the more. She crossed the small space and stood in front of the counter where he had set the beer bottle holding the Cherokee Rose, lifting the bottle gingerly so that the rose was level with her face and inhaling the scent it gave off. She closed her eyes, momentarily filled with a sense of peace that she had not thought she would ever feel again. For so many years she had become accustomed to the dark side of human nature, just smelling that flower and thinking about what it represented felt to her like the sun suddenly breaking through thunderclouds that she had thought would hover over her forever. Despite the bleakness of her world, she could not help but smile just for a moment, even if it was a smile tinged with sadness.

She put the makeshift vase back down carefully on the counter, her glance sweeping around the room once more before she headed for the door and the stairs that led outside. Stepping out of the RV into the bright sunlight, she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the difference. She hadn't noticed it earlier, but it really was a beautiful day, if perhaps a little on the hot side. She walked the short distance to the campfire area where most of the group had pitched their tents, not seeing any activity. She heard voices filtering out of the farmhouse across the lawn, and, upon closer inspection, saw Lori lying down in her tent, eyes closed and a serene look on her face. _Good_, thought Carol, _She deserves a little rest._ They all did. Every one of them had been through so much recently.

Carol, of course, rested only when it was absolutely necessary. Her nightmares still haunted her sleep most of the time, some worse than others, so she made the effort to stay awake when possible. Since there was nothing happening at the camp and nothing she could see that needed to be done – a miracle in itself – she turned and scanned the rest of the property. There were doubtless people inside the house busying themselves with one thing or another, but she didn't really feel like jumping into the hustle and bustle of a group at the moment. She strolled slowly through the grass, no firm destination in mind, just walking and thinking she'd stay in the shade if possible.

Before long she realized that without even thinking about it, she had wandered in the direction of where Daryl had set up his tent, away from the others. She slowed down for just a second and glanced around quickly to see if Daryl was around as she approached. She didn't want to look like she had been heading there on purpose, but didn't see any sign of him. Just as she was just about to walk by and continue her tour of the property when she heard a noise behind her.

"Ya lookin' for something'?" came a low voice. She felt the hint of a smile on her face involuntarily even before she had turned around.

She stopped walking and turned around to face him, her smile slight but warm. "I was just taking a walk. I hadn't been out this way before."

He nodded slightly, pulling a string holding several squirrels from his belt. "Guess I won't have to come lookin for you after I skin these, if you wanna wait a couple minutes. 'Course, if you'd rather not, I can come an find ya in a bit." He didn't want her to feel compelled to stay there while he worked if she didn't want to.

Carol watched as Daryl backtracked, and couldn't help but smile, albeit wearily. She could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, it showed so plainly on his face. Her smile grew just a little bigger in response. She had always been good at putting others at ease. Years of practice dealing with a man with a volatile temper had given her far too much practice cultivating an even, soothing tone in a vain attempt to calm his unpredictable and violent behavior. "No no, it's lovely out here. I'd be happy to wait. You can show me exactly what skinning them involves." Her face betrayed just a little bit of squeamishness, and Daryl almost smiled at that. Almost. The hint of the smile was gone just as fast as she thought she saw it. He nodded again, the tension in his face lessening somewhat as he shuffled back and forth a few times, then turned back towards his little camp area. She followed him quietly.

Without a word, he sat down on the log that sat next to the firepit in front of his tent, removed the squirrels from the loops that held them, and made quick work of separating the flesh from the skins. Carol followed him over to the log and sat a few feet away, watching him work. As he focused on the somewhat disgusting task at hand, she was amazed to see the remaining tension that she had seen so clearly in his face just a few minutes before clear completely. He suddenly looked relaxed, as if he had done this all his life._ Maybe he had_, she thought. They sat in comfortable silence as he worked, moving from one squirrel to the next and then replacing them on the loops once they were bare.

"You make that look easy," she observed, smiling slightly.

"Pffft," he grunted, looking at the ground and scuffing the heel of his boot in the dirt.

"Mmm-hmmm, you're about as good with compliments as I am," she observed. He chuckled a little at that comment. Compliments made him uncomfortable. He wasn't used to hearing them.

"There ya go," he said gruffly, handing her the string of skinned squirrels.

"Wow, when you said it would take you a few minutes, you really weren't kidding, were you?" she asked. "You work fast." She knew what he was about to say, and she actually enjoyed the fact that she could anticipate it.

"Pffft," he grunted, just as before. She chuckled this time.

He looked up at her, confused. " 'S so funny?"

She tried to hide her smile, but couldn't. "Nothing. I just knew you were going to say that," she said simply.

He started to do it again – it was his standard response after all – and then caught himself. They both chuckled a little at that.

Carol decided that this was as good a time as any for the thank you that she felt she owed him, while they were here with no one else around. "I wanted to thank you," she began slowly. He looked at her with genuine confusion.

"Thank me? I ain't done nothing…"

She shook her head quickly, suddenly almost overcome by emotion just remembering how she had felt after he'd given her the flower. "That's where you're wrong," she continued softly. "I won't even mention how good you've been to me since Sophia's been missing, though it's the truth… but earlier, when you came back with that beautiful Cherokee Rose…" She could feel herself getting emotional all over again. "I was so overwhelmed, I couldn't even say thank you." She took a breath, noticing how uncomfortable he looked. _He's going to hear it whether he likes it or not,_ she thought. "So… thank you." She suddenly had no more words. She knew that "thank you" wasn't sufficient to convey what she felt, but she just couldn't manage any other words.

"Wasn't nothin'.." he started, and trailed off.

She shook her head slowly, looking lost in thought. "You're wrong. To me it was a _big_ something." She paused, willing herself not to cry, again. She knew how it made him uncomfortable. She took a deep breath. "It was the first time anyone – anyone besides Sophia," her voice cracked when she uttered her daughter's name, "has ever brought me a flower," she said simply, and then suddenly her warm smile turned sad. He met her eyes then, their eyes reflecting warmth back at each other, as if they were recharging each other's souls.

Once again, he couldn't help but feel anger rise at her husband. Dead or not, he'd really like to kill him right now. This woman who gave to others like it was nothing had never expected anything in return, because that was what she was used to. On the contrary, all it took to make her happy was the lack of abuse. Any sort of actual kindness was enough to push her over the edge, to where she couldn't stop her emotions from brimming right over. It was the saddest thing he'd ever seen, mostly because he knew _exactly_ how it felt. He felt that he had so little to give, nothing really to offer anyone, and yet she reacted to any tiny bit of his kindness as if he'd giftwrapped the moon for her. He felt unworthy of such admiration.

After looking at each other for a minute, he was the first to look away, again grinding at the dirt with his heel. She turned and looked back out at the trees, feeling her face flush a little at having spoken from the heart. She hadn't been able to help it. It was the truth.

Looking up at the sun, she knew it was about time to be starting dinner. The group would be getting hungry soon. She stood up slowly, stretching. "Guess it's about time to start cooking those squirrels you brought in," she said, picking up the string of them from where it had been sitting between them on the log. He nodded, standing up from the log as well. "You coming up to the main camp for dinner then?" He usually showed up there for meals, but he liked to keep his distance from there in general.

"Dunno, guess so," he replied. She nodded, taking a step backwards toward the camp while still facing him.

"Okay, see you later then," she said softly, and smiled again. He gave her his signature nod as she turned and walked toward the main camp and dinner preparations. Her heart had been hurting for quite a few days now, but at that moment it felt like more of a dull ache. All things considered, it was the best she could hope for just then.


	19. Almost

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to The Walking Dead – except a bunch of merchandise. But I'm having a LOT of fun filling in some of the gaps in the story.**

**Author's Note: It's funny, I wasn't quite sure about the previous chapter, but couldn't quite think of a way to improve it, so I posted it anyway. Based on the reviews I've gotten, it was more than just OK! You guys are so sweet! Thanks so much for taking the time to leave your comments.**

**Season 2, episode 5**

**The Greene Family's farmhouse, late afternoon**

She'd heard the commotion when Daryl had dragged himself back to camp that afternoon. She was glad that Andrea hadn't gotten off a very good shot when she'd thought she was shooting at a walker, or things could have ended up very differently. Carol had already felt immeasurable gratitude to this man before today, and the fact that he'd injured himself so badly while out searching for her daughter just made her feel even more indebted to him. Not only that, but _he'd brought back Sophia's doll_, the one that was so special to her because it had been given to her by a friend at the camp back at the quarry. Carol hadn't even realized that Sophia had had it with her when she'd run into the woods, but Daryl said he'd found it laying on the creekbed. Carol had washed it that afternoon with the soap she used for the laundry while the men got Daryl inside. She hoped that the doll was some sort of sign of better things to come.

She knew that Rick and Shane had pretty much dragged an unconscious Daryl up to the farmhouse to be cleaned up and then stitched up by Hershel. She'd wanted to go in there right away and see how bad his injuries were, even if he _was_ still unconscious, but there'd been so many people around, and with Rick, Shane and Hershel already in that room, she hadn't wanted to be in the way. So she'd busied herself with the dinner preparations for the meal that she and Lori were making for the Greene family and their group to eat together. It felt marvelous to be cooking indoors, in a real kitchen, rather than over a campfire for the first time in what felt like lifetimes. Since she happened to be working in the farmhouse kitchen that day, she could catch snippits of conversations and have a better idea of what was going on in the room where they'd put Daryl to recover for the time being.

At some point later that afternoon, the activity in the house had slowed down. There wasn't much left to do to prepare dinner – a few things were simmering, but everything was under control – Lori had slipped up to the room where Carl was still recovering from his gunshot wound to look in on him, and Carol had heard Rick, Shane and Hershel leave Daryl's recovery room for other parts of the house or camp. For the first time since she'd been inside the house that day, it was mostly still. She could hear faint signs of activity and soft, muffled voices from various parts of the large house, but in general it was as peaceful as a house of that size, which sheltered so many people could be during the day.

Carol checked on the food one more time before wiping her hands on a dishtowel, and walking silently out of the kitchen. She wasn't tiptoeing, exactly, but she was making an effort to walk quietly. She reached the door to the room where they'd taken Daryl earlier that day and paused. She stood still and listened, not hearing any noise, and she tapped ever so slightly on the door with the knuckle of her middle finger. She didn't hear a response, which she hoped meant that he was sleeping. She didn't want to wake him, but she took the chance and pushed the door open gently, just enough to see in at first.

When she had enough of a view of the room to see that Daryl _was_ sleeping, she slowly pushed the door far enough open to let herself in before pushing it closed just as silently. She turned the knob before the door closed fully, the trick to avoiding the clicking sound it would have made when the mechanism caught to hold it, then let the knob go slowly once it was fully closed, and therefore made no sound. She had learned to do this long ago when she was trying her best not to disturb Ed from his alcohol induced slumber, since waking him up would only end one way for her. She took in the sight of him and felt herself flood with a new wave of appreciation for just how injured he was. Besides a thick bandage wrapped around his head, he'd been stitched up where the arrow – one of his _own _arrows – had pierced his side during his fall down the steep hill before he'd landed in the creek.

She could see that he was battered and bruised from all that had happened to him that day, but that wasn't all. The sheet wasn't pulled up high enough to cover his upper body and she could see that besides the new injuries, there were many other scars across his skin, scars that looked like they'd been there a long, long time. Empathy washed over her as she thought about how much they reminded her of her own scars. She crossed the room and took a seat in the chair by the window, where Shane had been sitting earlier that afternoon. From that side she could see his face, as he had fallen asleep partially leaning over on his good, unbandaged side. His face was somewhat contorted and his lips formed what almost looked like a snarl. Whatever he was dreaming about, it didn't appear to be a happy dream, that was for sure.

She sat there, leaning forward in the chair with her elbows resting on her knees, watching him sleep and suddenly her thoughts were wandering to the events of the past few days. Or had it been a few weeks? She felt like it had been years since she'd put a pickaxe through Ed's skull, again and again, and then had been so dazed and overcome that it was all she could do to collapse on the ground nearby, beside that red sports car that Glenn had been so excited to drive back from Atlanta.

It was eerie, but she now saw herself as if from someone else's perspective, sitting in the dirt beside the car, staring at nothing, unable to process anything happening around her. And then in the next second she saw Daryl there next to her. Without warning, the entire scene in front of her erupted in flames, the suddenness of which made her jump in her chair, and she was watching the CDC building explode into a fireball rising into the sky. She blinked and then suddenly a herd was surrounding them as they hid under cars on the highway, Lori holding her back from going to Sophia, and everyone was terrified. They'd thought the danger had passed, until… and just like that, she was watching Sophia run down the hill into the woods all over again. She tried to close her eyes to escape the memory, but it played out just as vividly before her eyes when they were closed as it did when they were open, possibly even more so. She felt herself shudder involuntarily, and she fought to choke back a sob before it escaped from her. Not now, not here.

The barrage of pictures continued before her eyes. Again she saw herself as if from someone else's perspective, sitting on the guardrail of the highway and staring into the woods endlessly. Then suddenly she had blinked again and Daryl was once again sitting beside her. The images sped up then. She saw Daryl marching into the trees to search for Sophia, and then immediately saw him returning without her, looking guilty that he hadn't brought back good news. This pattern repeated itself several more times, and each time she felt more and more frantic, more desperate. Then all at once, when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, she was watching Daryl set down the beer bottle holding the Cherokee Rose on the counter in the RV. She hadn't realized until that moment that her hands had clenched themselves into fists until she suddenly felt them relax, and when she looked down she saw the marks from where her fingernails had dug into her palms. The anxiety she'd felt as most of those memories had flooded past her eyes seemed to dissipate, and she remembered the feeling of peace that had come over her when she'd smelled the rose. She knew that it was silly, really, giving so much importance to one tiny white flower. But at the moment, she'd take any silly little thing that would help bring her back from the edge of the desperation that she felt so much of the time, including that very minute.

The flood of memories had finally stopped, and she decided that she should go. Hershel had said that Daryl's injuries weren't severe, despite how they looked, and that given enough time to heal, that he'd be fine. Granted, there was no guarantee that he'd _get_ enough time to heal before something happened that required his action, or before his stubbornness got the best of him and he decided he'd had enough rest, even if he hadn't. But they could at least hope that he would somehow get enough time to recover properly. She stood up and walked the short distance to the bed, pausing to kneel down in front of him for a few seconds, looking at his sleeping face and whispering an almost soundless "thank you." It was only then that she felt the tears on her cheeks, and she wiped them away quickly before leaving the room as silently as she had entered.

…

Daryl awoke slowly in the farmhouse bedroom. He remembered his ill-fated search for Sophia earlier that day: being thrown from the horse, falling down the ravine into the creek, somehow miraculously finding his crossbow, which had been submerged in the water with the only arrow remaining being the one lodged in his side. He'd seen Merle, though he'd known that he'd been a figment of his imagination – if Merle'd really been there with him at the house, he'd have woken his ass up long ago and told him to get the hell out of that bed and stop being such a pussy. He recalled having to slowly drag himself back to the Greenes' property, only to be shot – grazed, really – by Andrea, who'd thought he was a walker. He remembered Rick and Shane picking him up to help him the rest of the way, but that was where his memory ended. The next thing he knew, he was waking up in this same bed earlier this afternoon, with Rick, Shane and Hershel in the room with him.

He stretched slightly and immediately wished that he hadn't. Muscles in every part of his body screamed in protest, and he winced and relaxed back into the mattress. His head was pounding a little, his throat was dry, and he just generally felt like shit. He'd been awake earlier when Hershel had stitched up the arrow hole is his side and he had told Rick and Shane what had happened to him – minus the whole seeing Merle and his brand of "motivation" to get him back up the hill, which he figured he'd keep to himself. After they'd left him alone, it'd been easy to drift off to sleep. If anything, he felt worse now than he had then, as his muscles had had time to tighten up and more and more bruises appeared, as if to add insult to injury – literally.

His mind wandered back over what had turned from just another day out looking for Sophia, to what had almost been the end of him a few different times in the space of a few hours. It had all started with that goddamned snake. It was in the middle of the trail that he'd ridden that horse down next to the creek, and when it hissed, his "borrowed" horse had reared up and thrown him right off. Couldn't have landed on the safe side of the horse, of course… No, naturally he'd landed on the side with the steep drop through the trees, over rocks and straight into the water. It wasn't a little hill, either, it was a long fall and he was pretty sure he'd bumped into every single goddamn tree on the way down. It was steep as shit, and he'd had a crossbow on his back to boot. To top it off, he'd even managed to get one of _his own arrows_ through his side somewhere on the way down! It didn't help him to be pissed off about that, but he was anyway. He was glad that no one'd been there to see his spectacular fall, but even that didn't make him feel that much better. And of course, since the fall _hadn't_ killed him, he still had to worry about climbing back _up_ that goddamn hill.

As bad as his fall had been, it wasn't the thing that made the day so bad. The part that pissed him off the most – even more than being shot by Andrea – had been the manifestation of Merle in his head. He _knew_ that Merle was only in his head, but the voice was relentless, and in his partially delirious state, he had seen him in front of his eyes even though he knew he wasn't there. In a way maybe the no-_nonsense_ talk had motivated him up the hill… maybe he'd have made it up on his own, maybe he wouldn't have. He liked to think that he would have, but who could be sure? Thank god Merle's voice had kept him conscious though, because in the time that he'd laid by the creekbed and had almost fallen unconscious a walker had found him, and he only barely woken up fully _just_ in time to fight him off. Make that a second way he had almost died that day.

The third way he had almost died that day was really more of a "he _could've_ died that day," because Andrea's terrible shot really hadn't put him any closer to death than he'd already been. Thank goodness she hadn't had much target practice and had had the sun in her eyes. But the point was, he could've been shot. He supposed that he must have resembled a walker by the time he was limping back onto the Greenes' property. He had been covered in mud and blood, and trudging along unsteadily. From a distance, he guessed he could understand the mistake. Still, they all hadn't realized that he wasn't back yet? They weren't looking out for him to return? Goddamn those people. Buncha assholes sometimes.

The worst part about all of this was that all these injuries made it harder to go back out looking for Sophia. Now they were all gonna tell him to rest, relax, and all that crap. There was no time for that! Who knew if the rest of those fools were gonna keep going out, or if they'd listen to fucking Shane and give up. Even if they went out, they didn't know what the hell they were looking for anyway. No, he wanted to be out there. He _needed _to be out there. Someone needed to find that poor girl. She _had_ to be out there somewhere, and she and her momma didn't deserve this kinda punishment.

He shifted uncomfortably in the bed. He hated all this goddamn thinking. He hated even more that he was stuck in this bed. It's not like he'd be going out into the woods today, possibly a few days, who knew. It just made the cabin fever worse. There was nothing he hated more than feeling like a caged animal. He heard the sounds of someone walking down the hall toward his door, and he bristled at the thought of having to make conversation. The only thing worse than the thought of staying in that room right at that moment was knowing that he was going to have to stay in that room and make conversation with someone. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to be there, he just wanted…

What the hell _did_ he want?

Hmmm… He wanted whoever was out there to keep walking down the hall and leave him alone. And, well, dinner might be a good thing, too. He had to admit that he was a little bit hungry.

And just like that, the door opened. The footsteps he'd heard had been hers – Carol's. And she had brought him dinner.


	20. Visiting

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to The Walking Dead – except a bunch of merchandise. But I'm having a LOT of fun filling in some of the gaps in the story.**

**Season 2, episode 6**

**The Greene Family's farm, day**

The day was warm and sunny, and everyone was busy doing something. There always seemed to be things that needed to be done, for which Carol was extremely grateful. Being busy kept her mind off of other things, like whether or not today would be the day when she'd find out what had happened to Sophia. The not knowing was agonizing, and no matter how busy she tried to keep herself, her daughter's fate never left her mind. It had been so many days now – it felt like _years_ – and she would be lying if she said she hadn't started losing hope. It wasn't completely gone, but she could feel the doubt grow stronger with each passing hour. After all, realistically speaking, a girl of Sophia's age could only be expected to survive out there for so long on her own, and there were so many things that could already have happened to her…

Carol shut her eyes and tried to push the thoughts from her head. She and Lori had finished hanging up the wet laundry on their makeshift clothesline by the campfire, and Lori had wandered off to check on Carl. It was the in between moments, when everyone else was doing something else, that bothered Carol the most. It had been more years than she could remember since she'd had any time when she wasn't doing something for someone else. Now she suddenly found herself without a husband or, for the moment, a daughter – she had no one who needed her. No matter how the peace of being free from Ed had liberated her, the emptiness of losing Sophia almost immediately afterwards had completely negated it. Worse than negated it. She felt lost, purposeless, and not for the first time since Sophia had vanished, completely alone.

She'd heard some of the others say that Daryl had recovered enough to leave the bedroom in the farmhouse that morning and move back to his own tent. While some people might find this to be a step down, a hardship to go from an actual bed, in a house, back to a tent in the yard, she knew that Daryl would probably be much happier. He liked to be away from people as much as possible, and even if he remained in his tent to rest – which seemed unlikely given his impatience with things like resting – at least he'd be closer to the woods that he liked so much. She didn't know whether or not the move had already happened, since Daryl had set up his tent further away from the rest of the group, again, preferring to isolate himself. Deciding that this was as good a time as any to go and find out if he was there and how he was doing, she stopped to grab a water bottle from the meager stock of supplies they had stored in the RV, waving to Dale, who was on watch up on the RV's roof, then set off in the direction of Daryl's tent.

It was quiet as she approached Daryl's small campsite, and the only sound was a gentle breeze blowing through the trees. She approached the tent slowly, but trying to make a little extra noise as she walked. None of them really liked to feel like someone was sneaking up on them after all they'd been through recently. She got to the open flap of the tent and upon peering in, she saw Daryl lying on his back, reading a paperback book called The Case of the Missing Man. His expression was something akin to someone who was being tortured.

"Knock, knock," she called quietly, sticking her head inside.

"Hey," Daryl said flatly, the unhappy look on his face easing a little bit when he saw her. He lowered the book, closing it immediately and setting it down beside him. "Welcome to my castle… er, tent. I'd give ya the tour, of course, but…" he gestured at the various places where he was bandaged.

"It's okay, I think I have a sense of the place," she said seriously, stepping inside and looking around, pretending she was appraising the features of a house. "Some very minimalistic decorating, but I like what you've done with it. Very 'camping-modern,'" she replied with a straight face, before smiling slightly at her own joke. He chuckled and shook his head. The silence stretched a few seconds longer than was comfortable. "Anyway, I just wanted to stop and see how you were doing," she began after a pause. "Sorry to bother you. I'll let you get back to your book." She started to move toward the door.

"Nah, stick around a second. I'd do just about anything to avoid readin this book. Could be the worst fuckin book ever written," he replied disdainfully, looking accusingly at the front cover, as if the book should be ashamed of itself, then smacking his fist down on it beside him in mock anger. "Andrea brought it down, I guess it's Dale's… it fucking _sucks_," he said, concluding his informal assessment.

"Now that's a book report like no other I've ever heard before," Carol replied, grinning.

"Pffft," Daryl grunted. As if to prove his point, he tossed the book across the tent toward an empty corner, smiling a little when it hit the ground with a _thud_.

"You can sit down, if you want," he said. "Don't got a chair to offer ya or nothing, but… at least ya know I got no more books to throw." He held up both hands in mock surrender.

"You don't have a chair just in case you have guests? Shocking," Carol joked, knowing how Daryl generally hated having most other people around.

" 'M not much for havin guests," he grumbled.

She knelt beside the makeshift cot he was laying on, which looked like a stretcher that had been secured in place, raising him off the ground a foot or two. "Oh, I brought you something," she said, leaning toward him and holding out the water bottle in her hand. He nodded and took it from her. Even though the situation was different, the role reversal here was clear to both of them. Just this little gesture reminded Daryl immediately of the days on the highway, Carol sitting both by the dismantled sports car, and then on the guardrail… and he immediately felt guilty for lying there on his back, not being out looking for Sophia.

"So, by tomorrow I should be up and around again, ready to head back out to look for Sophia," he began.

She shook her head. "Look tough guy, you had an _arrow through your side_, probably a concussion and I don't even know what else. You need to rest for more than a day." She wasn't a doctor, but that much was pretty clear even to _her_.

"Just hate sittin around, doin nothing when there's important stuff needs to be done," he grumbled. "Like lookin for your little girl, mainly," he added quietly.

She sighed, wishing that it _was_ him out looking with the rest of them today. She had more faith in him than in the rest of them put together, though she wasn't quite sure _why_. There was just something about him… the same way she felt more at peace when he was around than when he wasn't.

"I know, I hate sitting around too," she told him. "Just let the others take care of things for a few days… _please_? You won't heal properly if you don't rest." _I need you to be okay_, she thought.

He was moved by the look of concern on her face, mostly because it wasn't something he was used to. The only looks he was accustomed to getting when he was injured, or really anytime for that matter, were the ones from Merle, or back in the day, from his father, the looks that told him what a stupid, worthless pussy he was to let anything slow him down. It didn't stop with the _looks_, of course, the words were equally hurtful, if not more so. A _Dixon_ didn't stop to recover. A _Dixon_ didn't show weakness. Not ever. This had been made clear to him many times over the years. Painfully so, and any hint of weakness had been rewarded with a new injury to take his mind off of the old one.

Now it was his turn to sigh, fidgeting on his blanket. "I'll try," he replied. "But no promises." He decided to change the subject, and with it, change the focus of the conversation away from himself. "You been sleepin any better?"

She looked down at her lap, wove her fingers together, her mouth suddenly making a thin line as she pursed her lips. She'd already answered the question before she spoke. "No, not really…" she replied, still staring at her fingers. If anything, her nightmares were getting worse.

He thought back to the few nights up on the highway where a few of them had crammed into the RV for shelter, and Carol had alternated between sobbing and having nightmares. He realized that now that they could spread out into tents and have their own space, she was probably still going through the same things, but that now she was going through it without anyone else nearby. Not that being near others _necessarily_ helped – hell, he knew that he _preferred_ to be alone… but knowing as much about her as he did, this seemed like the kind of thing that she would find harder to go through by herself.

He wished there was something he could do to help her, but he couldn't think of anything. He hadn't minded the night – early morning, really – when she'd asked him – no wait, he had offered – to stick around the RV because she said that his presence would help her sleep better. He kinda liked the feeling that just by being there, he made a difference to someone, even though it seemed inconceivable to him.

"Anything, ya know, I can do…" he began awkwardly. _How do you tell someone you barely know that you wish you could make their nightmares go away?_

She shook her head quickly, her face serious. "You've done so much for me already," she said quietly. "I'm not your problem."

"Never said you were a problem," he replied. _Just tell me what I can do to help_, he thought, but he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. This conversation was already getting pretty awkward for both of them, and silence descended upon the tent, stretching longer and longer. They both found ways to fidget with their hands uncomfortably, and Daryl wished he hadn't steered the conversation in this direction to start with.

Finally, Carol stretched her arms above her head and said, "It's probably time I did something useful around here. Thanks for giving me an excuse to take a little break." She smiled slightly, pushing herself up off the ground.

"Thanks for the water bottle," he mumbled, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Don't mention it," she replied. "It was definitely my turn to return the favor." She looked at him fondly, taking a step toward the opening of the tent. "I'll see you later… Get some rest," she added sternly.

"Doin my best," he replied, still lying on his back, one hand now propped behind his head. She stepped out of the tent, and he stared at the ceiling, wishing he could walk out into the woods, where he could think about everything more clearly.


	21. Campfire

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to The Walking Dead – except a bunch of merchandise. But I'm having a LOT of fun filling in some of the gaps in the story.**

**Season 2, episode 6**

**The Greene Family's farm, night**

It had been another disappointing day. Though really, she didn't _expect_ them to come back with Sophia at this point, every time the search parties came back without her, Carol's heart broke a little more. Just when she thought that she couldn't possibly feel more miserable, more alone… she did. When Andrea and Shane had come back and said that "the place was overrun," that had made it ten times worse. Not only was her little girl still out there, _somewhere_, but the place where they'd thought she might be was full of walkers! It just didn't seem possible that she'd successfully avoided them for this long… as much as she wanted to believe that she had. The uncertainty was slowly killing her, she was sure of it. This _had_ to be what it felt like to die of a broken heart.

She lay in her tent, not even the slightest bit sleepy. She tried to convince herself to close her eyes, even though she knew what images waited for her if she did, but they would pop back open again of their own accord. She'd barely slept since Sophia had been missing – she couldn't even conceive of how long it had been anymore – days? Weeks? – and yet, despite the fact that she should probably have been exhausted, she was fully awake. Suddenly she couldn't stay in her tent any longer. She sat bolt upright, and was on her feet in seconds. She pulled on her boots and made her way out of the tent. Looking around the camp, she saw that everything was just as it should be. She imagined that the others were all sleeping peacefully, except Dale, who was once again on watch atop the RV. She considered relieving him, but decided against it. No need to call attention to the fact that she wasn't sleeping. They'd all started worrying enough about her insomnia without her making it more obvious.

Slowly walking the short distance to the firepit, she sat down on the hard ground directly in front of where the fire had been hours before, hugging her knees to her chest with her left arm and leaning her head down so that her chin was resting on her knees. She picked up a twig from the ground in her right hand and poked at the embers that had been put out hours ago. It was just something to do, something mindless to occupy her hands. She tried to keep her mind on nothing, but it was hard to do when what she was doing with her hands required no concentration whatsoever. She found herself thinking, once again, of Sophia, imagining what she might be doing or where she might be right at that moment. No matter how hard she willed the thoughts to stop, they kept coming until she wanted to scream. The desire to scream became so strong, it suddenly seemed like the only way to make the images go away. But she knew that she couldn't wake the entire camp without a damn good reason, so she just jabbed more and more violently at the embers, then the ground, with the stick in her hand, until it finally snapped in half. _How symbolic_, she thought, because she felt as though she was about to snap as well.

She was looking around her for another stick when she heard a soft noise behind her. Wide eyed, she wheeled around only to see Daryl approaching her slowly, limping just a little. _What in the world was he doing up here in the middle of the night?_ she wondered. He didn't even come up to the main camp during the _day_ if it could be avoided! He lowered himself down onto a small section of log that sat near the firepit, not far from where she was sitting. Neither of them had spoken, they just sat looking at each other. There was a look on his face that she couldn't quite read, like he wanted to smile, but was holding it back. She continued to look at him in confusion. Finally she couldn't take it anymore. "Daryl, what in the world are you doing here? It's the middle of the night!"

He shook his head slowly, chuckling a little bit. "Ya know, I could ask ya the same thing…" Realizing that he was right, she joined in, slowly smiling.

"Okay, you got me there, but my tent is _right there,"_ she pointed to her tent. "It's not _quite_ as weird that I'm out here in the middle of the night. What would make you wander all the way up here, Mr. "I'm gonna try to rest and heal?"

He shrugged and looked at the dirt, where his heel was now starting to grind an indentation. "I had a feelin you wouldn't be sleepin, so I just thought I'd come an check on ya. And apparently I was right." He paused, then added, "An besides, I been restin an sleepin all the goddamn time, a person can only sleep so much 'fore their body just wants ta stay awake for a while."

Carol's mouth had dropped open about midway through his answer – right around the time when he said he knew she wouldn't be sleeping and had come to check on her – and she stared at him, unable to believe the words that she had just heard him utter. He had dragged herself up here, in the middle of the night, _to check on her_? It sure as hell didn't happen to her often, but Carol was speechless.

When he didn't hear a response of any kind, Daryl raised his eyes cautiously to look at her where she sat on the ground. Seeing the expression on her face, he smiled just a little. " 'S not a big deal, okay? Was good to walk just a little." She just shook her head at him, unable to believe that someone would do that for her. He was full of one surprise after another, that was for sure.

"Why you sittin out here in the dirt instead of bein in bed like everyone else, anyway?" he added, once again shifting the focus of the conversation from him to her. It made him much more comfortable not to have her focusing on him quite so intently... She acted like every little thing he did for her was a big deal, which he just couldn't understand. He didn't feel worthy of such gratitude. It's not as though he'd found Sophia, for goodness sake!

She shrugged. "I dunno, just felt like it I guess." Looking back at him, she saw that he was looking at her funny, as if waiting for more of an explanation. "I couldn't spend another second in that tent. Couldn't even get my eyes to close. So I came out here and this was just where I saw down, not for any reason. I was sitting here poking a stick at the embers for a while… just something to do…" she trailed off, remembering what had become of the stick. She continued slowly, looking back at the embers as she talked, "…til I started jabbing the stick into the ground, a _little_ too hard, I guess… and it snapped," she finished with embarrassment. "Guess I had more frustration than the stick could handle."

He shook his head at her again, chuckling under his breath and watching her carefully. "Why dontcha get off the dirt and let the sticks feel safe again until mornin? Ya know we got chairs," he indicated several lawn chairs strewn around the campfire area, "got benches…" he leaned his head toward the spot next to him on the log that was used as a bench, along with several others nearby.

She gave him a quizzical smile, stood up and brushed herself off. "Oh, worried about the plight of the sticks, are you now?"

"Pfffft," he grumbled.

She walked over to the log bench and sat down beside him. There was more than enough space for the two of them to sit there without it feeling crowded. She liked hanging out with Daryl. They just seemed to click. She'd been trying to figure it out for a while now, without success. In the end she'd decided the _why_ didn't really matter. Her world – hell, _the whole world_ – was so full of horrible things right now, who was she to question anything that made the bad parts seem not quite so bad?

Without warning, sitting there next to him reminded her of sitting beside him against the red sports car, and along the guardrail of the highway. Her breath caught in her throat for a second, and she took a deep breath to steady herself, grasping the log under her with both hands to hold herself upright. He looked over at her quickly with concern. "Ya okay?" he asked.

She just nodded, closing her eyes for a minute. "They kinda sneak up on me sometimes, when I'm not expecting them," she explained. "Memories, images… certain thoughts… they just startle me for a second… Especially when I'm not keeping my mind occupied by concentrating on something else. It's been happening a lot here, since..." She didn't need to finish her sentence. He nodded. He really couldn't imagine how hard everything had been for her, and yet all he'd seen her do was constantly try to help everyone else. _To keep herself busy, to feel needed_. It made perfect sense when he thought about it that way.

They both grew quiet, lost in thought yet again, but it wasn't an awkward quiet this time. She realized that she hadn't grabbed her sweater from her bag before she came out of her tent, and she shivered just a little against the night air. It wasn't cold, exactly, but it wasn't quite warm either. " 'F we're gonna be here a while, we could build a fire, least a little one," he suggested, having noticed her shivering.

"Sounds good," she agreed, smiling at his thoughtfulness.

She jumped up from the log to grab some sticks. He started to push himself up as well, but she held up a hand. "Stop right there. You're still on the injured list. You get to build the fire, but I'm getting the sticks." He was about to protest, but the look on her face was determined, so he slumped back down on the log to wait. He didn't have to wait long though, because there was a plentiful collection of tree branches of all sizes scattered around the camp area, and Carol was back in a few minutes with more than enough.

It was only a few minutes after that that they were enjoying a small but warm fire and the firelight that came with it. Carol had always loved to watch campfires, fires in fireplaces, any kind of small fires really. The light from the flames was mesmerizing. That was probably her favorite thing about them, and suddenly the night didn't seem so ominous or her head so full of demons. She scooted herself forward off of the log to sit on the ground again, now leaning her back against her it. She held out her hands, palms open, towards the fire and enjoyed the warmth.

"Back in the dirt again, huh?" he teased her.

She just grinned. "Wanted to get closer to the heat. This was a great idea. I could sit here and watch the fire all night." He was pretty sure it was the biggest smile he'd seen on her face since at least before Sophia'd been missing, if not since he'd known her. He knew it was only temporary, but he was glad she could have a break from the sadness that haunted her.

They sat and watched the fire for a while, the light and warmth bringing a sense of peace much bigger than the small fire. Eventually Carol turned sideways towards him, folded her legs under her, and rested her arm, bent at the elbow, on the log. Then she laid her head down on the log, using her arm as a pillow. There was the faintest tinge of color on the horizon to the east, and Daryl couldn't help but think that it was probably about the same time of day – almost morning – as it had been when she had finally calmed down enough to go to sleep the night she'd broken down in the RV, up on the highway. Her eyes were starting to look heavy. "This is perfect," she said, closing her eyes. Their little fire was almost out, but the glowing embers still radiated a slight warmth.

"Get a little bit of rest, okay? It'll be morning soon," he told her.

"Mmhmmm… but I'm not moving from this spot. You can't make me," she replied, still not opening her eyes.

"Wasn't thinkin of it," he chuckled quietly. He stood up slowly, and carefully stretched. "Be right back," he whispered, unsure of whether she was still awake enough to hear him or not.

"Mmmhmmmm," she replied, eyes still closed. He walked the short distance to her tent and got the thin blanket that sat folded there. He walked back to where she was now mostly asleep by the fire, and laid the blanket over her. She smiled and pulled it around her. "Thank you," she whispered.

After stomping out what little glow was left of their fire, he sat down next to her, "in the dirt," as he'd called it, slouching down low and leaning against the log they'd been sitting on. Before too long, he was asleep too.


	22. Empty

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to The Walking Dead – except a bunch of merchandise. But I'm having a LOT of fun filling in some of the gaps in the story.**

**Author's note: It concerns me that the chapters that seem to flow the most easily are the ones where Carol is having a breakdown, and the ones that are the hardest for me to write are the ones where they are happy. I like it think that I have a deep connection with Carol, and not that I like to torture her... but who knows! I'm pretty proud of this chapter, so I hope you all enjoy it. **

**Season 2, episode 7**

**The Greene Family's farm, late morning**

He didn't quite know how it had gone so wrong. How, or why, she'd gotten under his skin quite the way she had at that moment. He'd been wrong to be angry with her, and wrong to talk to her that way, and certainly wrong to lose his temper with her – and he knew it. He knew he'd been an ass, and now he felt bad about it. _That part_, the feeling bad, was unusual for him – he didn't usually care how he talked to people. But she was different. What he _didn't_ know was quite what to do about it.

As he crept through the trees at the edge of the Greenes' vast property, his eyes open for any small animals that he could bring back to camp as food, he replayed the scene from earlier that morning in his head. She had come into the stable behind him as he brought the saddle in – had she followed him? – and she had simply tried to tell him that he wasn't well enough to be going out after Sophia – which was exactly what he'd been getting ready to do. He'd pretty much demonstrated how _not_ ready he was by trying to heave the saddle up onto the stand outside the stalls, which wasn't nearly as high as he would have to lift it onto a _horse_, and almost falling over from the effort of it. Still, he couldn't – no, he _wouldn't_ admit – to her or to himself, that he wasn't ready to go out after Sophia. He had told himself that he _had_ to be ready, and nothing was going to stop him.

She'd tried to gently and logically talk him out of it, but he'd ignored her pleas. He had ignored her even when she'd told him, "I can't lose you too." She just didn't know what she was saying. She thought that she cared about him maybe, but little did she know, he wasn't anything worth caring about. There was nothing special about him. He was a no-good redneck piece of trash. With all of his alleged tracking skills he couldn't even find a little girl lost in the woods. A girl who _wasn't_ trying to evade him, was actually _trying_ to be found, and he couldn't even fuckin find her. Yeah, he was pretty worthless. There was nothing special about him. No, she didn't know what the fuck she was talking about.

But the worst part – the _worst_ part – the thing that made him the _angriest_, was that _she_ had given up. She had given up on _her own daughter_. Damn woman should be ashamed of herself. She'd told him "We don't know if we're gonna find her, Daryl. We don't," as if that was a reason not to go. She wanted him to give up? Not to try? That would be the _ultimate_ failure, as far as he was concerned. He could fail to come back with Sophia a thousand times, but if he found her in the end, then he wouldn't be a failure after all. He could still redeem himself. Why the _fuck_ would she ever ask that of him – to give up? To fail, and make the failure permanent… how _could_ she? This was her _daughter _she was giving up on, not just some kid. He couldn't figure out why he was more determined than she was. No, he was _not_ going to give up. He hadn't been able to save _himself_ back then, and no one else had been interested in saving him, but _he_ would save Sophia. He _had_ to.

He knew he'd crossed the line though, when he'd walked away calling her a "stupid bitch." He'd grumbled it, but it had been loud _enough_ that he'd known she'd heard him. He had been _so_ angry at her at the time, that he'd wanted her to hear him. But saying something that he knew would hurt her so badly, on purpose, and then walking away without dealing with the consequences? He'd acted like a coward, and he knew it. He didn't have to see her face to know what his words must have done to her. This woman had been in pretty much immeasurable pain for the past few weeks straight. She'd lost literally everything in her life – the bad as well as the good. Sure, they'd all lost a lot, but this was different. And there he was, the rock that she had decided to cling to against the current – because even though he didn't know why she was doing it, he knew that she was – and he had released her, no, he had _pushed her_, out into the open water to fight the current alone.

He was so angry right now, with her, and even more so with himself. How _could_ he have done that? No, he knew exactly how he could've done it. He'd done it because he was a fucking asshole with a goddamn bad temper, always had been. He'd been useless all his life, that much had been made abundantly clear to him for as long as he could remember, and this was just further proof. Not _only _was he a failure at finding Sophia, but now he'd caused Carol even more pain, which was the last thing he'd wanted to do. He kicked at the ground in frustration, and took a deep breath as pain radiated through the rest of his body at the sudden movement.

It was then that he stopped walking, slowly realizing that what he was doing right now in the trees couldn't be considered hunting. All he was doing was walking around through the brush, tromping so loudly that he was surprised he hadn't managed to attract walkers, even if he _was_ still within the fences of the Greenes' property. There was no doubt that any animals that were out there would have heard his approach and fled. He cursed angrily to himself and continued walking slowly and aimlessly, not wanting to exacerbate his injury, but definitely not ready to head back to his tent for any more goddamn rest.

…

Carol lay in her tent, staring blankly at the ceiling. She'd been laying that way for what felt like days, but in reality had probably only been a few hours. Lori had come to check on her at some point, telling her she didn't look well. She sure as hell didn't _feel_ well, that much was certain. She thought back on the morning, trying to determine where exactly things had gone so terribly wrong.

She'd seen Daryl heading for the stables at some point earlier that morning, and she'd had a feeling she knew what he was planning to do. She'd caught up with him as he'd been bringing in a saddle, which he had clearly been in no shape to be carrying. Daryl was a strong guy, but just the effort of lifting the saddle onto the stand by the stall doors had been almost too much for him. How the hell did he think he was going to get it all the way onto a horse's back? And after that? What then? She'd called him out on it, because it was the right thing to do. She couldn't let him risk everything for her, or for a girl who might or might not still be alive, even if that girl was the daughter that she loved more than anything in the world.

_Of course_ she wanted him to be out looking for Sophia. _Of course_ she wanted Sophia to be found. Surely he didn't doubt that! But she did _NOT _want any of it happening at the expense of his health or his life. Going out there even in the best and healthiest condition was risky these days – just look at what had _already_ happened to him, for God's sake! In poor health, as he was at the moment, because he hadn't had time to heal properly from his many wounds, it was so much _more _dangerous. She had already found herself alone in the world. She'd lost her daughter, the person she loved _most_. Yes, she barely knew Daryl, but that somehow didn't matter. She just _knew _that he was special and important, even if he didn't seem to know it himself.

Most importantly, he had become special to _her_. She didn't doubt him or his abilities. If anything, she thought him _more_ capable than any of the rest of the group. But she just couldn't stand the thought, the chance, that something even worse would happen to him out there, while he was out there looking for _her daughter_. Not only would she have felt incredibly guilty, but even more than that, she would have been devastated all over again_._ Somehow he had become the one thing left in the world that she could hold onto – figuratively speaking – the one thing that was keeping her afloat, so to speak. The rest of the group was nice enough, they were all becoming closer and closer – they may or may not have been the last group of people left at the end of the world – but it just wasn't the same.

She'd told him that they didn't know if they were going to find her, Sophia, which was the truth. There was no way to know this. In life, especially this new life of theirs, there was no way to know _anything_, especially when it came to surviving in the wilderness. This didn't mean that she didn't still hope they _would_ find her, but hoping so hard for so long was breaking her heart. She was afraid not to hope, but at the same time, she was afraid to _continue_ hoping. Uncertainty was gnawing away at her like a cancer, and she wondered what would actually hurt worse – continuing to hope and being constantly disappointed, or giving up. There was no way to know. All she knew for sure was that she was losing hope. She didn't want him putting himself at risk for something that there was little or no hope of accomplishing. There was no way to express this, of course. Strangely enough, she had felt like her eyes alone had, on other occasions, conveyed what she wanted to say when she looked at him.

This time, however, it had not happened that way.

And so he'd gotten angry at her for seeming to give up. It only made her admiration of him that much stronger, even as his terseness hurt her. She understood why he was reacting the way he was, even as tears slipped down her cheeks. She was angry with herself, too. He'd been _so angry_, even gone so far as to try to hurl the saddle to the floor of the stable, before she'd seen him double over in pain. Despite the fact that she _knew_ he was furious with her, she'd gone to ask if he was alright. She couldn't help it, it was who she was. She was the one who took care of everyone – everyone but herself. It had stung when he'd yelled at her to _leave him be_, but what had knocked the wind out of her and left her feeling the way she sometimes had after Ed had beaten her was when he called her a "stupid bitch." In some ways it was lucky, she supposed, that he'd said it as he was walking away, so he couldn't see her face.

Logically, she knew that he had said it because he was furious with her for giving up. She knew that he wasn't good with words, and it seemed like his feelings often overwhelmed him and sent him running in the other direction. She'd watched it happen before. She knew that there was no way for him to understand how much she was hurting, though he seemed to understand it _better_ than the rest of them. She didn't hold this lack of understanding against him. On the contrary, she admired how hard he tried to help her with her pain without becoming smothering and overbearing. He was just _there_, which was exactly what she needed.

She was furious with herself for starting to give up. She just wasn't strong enough to maintain her hope for so long, and it killed her. It was simply too painful and too exhausting. So yes, she could admit that she was losing hope. She understood that Daryl was angry with her for it. She understood that he was determined, and she understood that he was taking the failure to find Sophia as a personal failure. She still didn't completely understand _why_ he had made it so personal, but it didn't really matter. It showed that he was a kind and caring human being, despite the harsh, antisocial side of him that he tried to show to the world, and that he was showing to _her_ right now. But she knew that that wasn't _really_ him.

Even with all of this understanding, empathy and caring, it did not erase the sting of his last words. He hadn't said them to her face, but that hardly mattered. She had been unable to breathe for a second, feeling as though she'd been punched and kicked with his words, the sting of them radiating through every last inch of her body. It was a wonder that she had managed to remain standing. She had stood in the stable after he'd stormed out, staring after him, for what felt like a very long time, though it was probably not more than a few minutes. Then she'd willed herself forward, slowly, unsteadily, back to her tent without a sideways glance at anything or anyone. Her tears had suddenly stopped when he'd walked away, knocked out of her along with all of the air. She was too much in shock and too hurt even to cry. She would have collapsed there on the stable floor but for the fact that she knew she would eventually have to pull herself up and drag herself back to her tent… and this time, she wasn't sure she'd have the strength to _ever_ pick herself up again. So she told herself she'd better make it back to somewhere she wouldn't have to move from, and pushed herself forward.

So now she lay in her tent, staring blankly at the ceiling. Lori must have been warning people away, and must have either taken care of lunch herself or enlisted someone to help her, because at some point Carol smelled the campfire, and some sort of food cooking, but couldn't bring herself to move. Lori poked her head in with a plate of food and tried to get her to eat, but she just shook her head at her friend, silently begging her to leave her alone. Mercifully, for once Lori didn't seem to need to talk her to death, and she left the plate on the makeshift table in the corner, retreating back through the flap of the tent.

…

Hours had passed since Daryl had ventured angrily into the woods, and he was beginning to feel calmer. The woods always had that effect on him. For whatever reason, it seemed to be the only place that he could process whatever was happening in his life, in his mind, and make sense of it all. He knew _what_ he had done and said, he knew _why_ he had done and said it… and now, finally, he saw that there was no excuse for it. To have made Carol feel even worse on top of everything else? It was simple beyond wrong, and he was going to have to fix it. He was a worthless jackass, he knew, but even _he_ had limits, lines that he knew that it was wrong to cross. He had crossed at least one, and it was time to try to make it right. If she wouldn't forgive him, then he couldn't blame her. He probably didn't deserve her forgiveness. Hell, _he_ probably wouldn't have forgiven him if he were her. But that didn't mean he didn't have a responsibility to try to make things right.

He'd walked past the farmhouse, the stable, and the other areas where he'd seen people gathered, where she often was during the day, and hadn't seen her. Heading toward the main camp, he wondered if she'd be in her tent, though it seemed unlikely. She wasn't usually in there during the day. He remembered all too well that she didn't like confined spaces, and she tended to only be in her tent when she had to be – those few hours when she tried to sleep. He approached the main camp area and saw Lori sitting with Carl, huddled together with a book.

"Ya seen Carol?" he asked gruffly.

"She's in her tent, but I think she's sleeping. She's not feeling well," Lori replied, not looking back up from the book she and Carl were immersed in.

Now he _really_ felt like shit. Worse than shit, the lowest of the low. She was voluntarily in her tent, keeping herself away from people, which was completely unlike her. There was no way she was _sleeping_. He knew how she felt about sleeping. And if she _was_ sleeping, well, that was almost worse, because he knew that sleeping was like torture for her because of the nightmares she had most of the time.

He approached her tent slowly. He wasn't looking forward to this, but he pushed himself forward, ready to take the punishment for his actions. He deserved it, he knew, and she had certainly _not_ deserved to be treated the way he had treated her. The flap of the tent was open, and as he glanced inside he saw a plate of uneaten food on the corner table, and Carol, laying on her back on a thin blanket, staring at nothing, her eyes open but unfocused. He cleared his throat and waited.

She'd been staring at nothing, completely oblivious to the passing of time or the world around her, when she heard the faintest rustling outside, and then saw movement by the opening of the tent. For just a second she hoped that it wasn't Lori having finally decided that she wanted to talk. She couldn't handle the woman right now. Her eyes darted to the opening of the tent, the rest of her remaining perfectly still. Instead of Lori, she saw Daryl standing there. She felt something shift inside her – she couldn't tell if her insides were tightening or easing at seeing him there – and she flicked her eyes back to the ceiling. She couldn't even find the energy to respond to his presence.

He tried not to panic at her lack of reaction. _I did this to myself,_ he thought. "Can I…?" he asked, then stopped. It was a voice she'd never heard from him. He sounded almost timid. Her brain sent the signal to her neck muscles to nod, but the movement was so slight that she wasn't sure if he would even see it. But he must have, because he took one tentative step and then another into her tent, bending down to avoid hitting the ceiling. He took the crossbow from his back and laid it gently on the ground by the entrance, and came to sit cross-legged beside where she lay. She still hadn't looked at him since the initial glance, but as he sat down next to her, she allowed her eyes to shift back to him, curious.

He wove his hands together in his lap and looked down at them. Never had she seen him look _quite_ like this, and she turned her head to study his expression more closely. Suddenly she was overcome with concern for him, wondering what was bothering him so much that he would wear this look, completely forgetting everything that had happened between them only hours before. It wasn't that she suddenly forgave him, but her compassion for others was – had always been – so strong, she was never able to think about herself when she saw someone else who needed her. She suddenly recognized the expression on his face, or at least one very much like it. She knew it because it reminded her of the expression she saw on her own face when she looked in the mirror – the very few times she got that chance anymore.

"I…" he started slowly in a low voice. He didn't know how to go on. It was as though the words were bottlenecked somewhere between his brain and his mouth. There was a pause as he tried to start again.

"I know," she whispered slowly. He looked up at her, his surprise evident in his face. _She knew? How?_

She shifted herself into a sitting position for the first time in hours, so that they sat facing each other. Her expression suddenly resembled a smile, and he might have thought that that's what it was if not for her eyes, which reflected only pain.

He tried again, attempting a different sentence, something less intimidating that what he'd wanted to start with, which was _I'm sorry._ He didn't know why that particular one wouldn't come out, but it wouldn't.

"I wanna show ya something. It's not far," he said quietly, the words finally flowing again. She nodded slowly, not trusting her voice completely yet. He got to his feet, his shoulders hunched to keep his head from hitting the ceiling of the tent, and reached out his hands to pull her up. Her lips curled up ever so slightly at the gesture, not a smile but showing appreciation, and she reached up to take his hands, applying the tiniest bit of extra pressure before releasing them once she was upright. It wasn't even quite a squeeze, but a communication nonetheless. They ducked through the tent opening and walked slowly, without speaking, away from the main camp. Lori happened to look up from the book that she and Carl were still reading just then, and shook her head at the pair. It seemed as though they were the only two who could reach each other.

They continued slowly, walking side by side. The air was different between them somehow. She wasn't angry with him, but she felt... weak. Exhausted. Drained. _Empty_. It was the only way she could describe it. He could sense that something was different about her, that she was not quite her whole self just then. He didn't know exactly what to do, and so they continued walking slowly towards the pond that he had found when he had been out looking for Sophia a few days before. It was a little ways off of the Greenes' property, but he was confident that he could keep the two of them safe. He knew that there were Cherokee Roses by the pond, and he'd decided that showing her those would be a greater expression of what he wanted to say than any words that he could clumsily come up with. And so they walked, silently, carefully, a little awkwardly, but with the knowledge that neither of them was alone.


	23. Numb

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead, though it does take up a lot of space on my DVR. "Do we really need all these on here?" my husband asks. "Aren't they all on Netflix?" (Ummm, no! Not season 5!) Some people just don't understand! Anyway, though I don't own it, but I'm having a LOT of fun filling in some of the gaps in the story with what I imagined must have happened, and then dreaming of seeing my scenes come to life, which sadly will only happen in my head. Oh well…**

**Author's Note: For some reason I was more stuck when it came to writing this chapter than any of the previous 22. Thank you ever so much to HarryMakepeace for being my sounding board (and as always, my cheerleader!) and helping me get "unstuck."**

**Season 2, episode 8**

**The Greene Family's farm, day**

Shane had decided that they needed to take care of the problem "once and for all," and had taken it upon himself to open the barn doors so they could do so. Whether the rest of the group agreed or not, once Shane had opened those doors, the others had had no choice to but to help him shoot the walkers that emerged. All of them had been taken care of – a nice way to say shot in the head – as the members of the Greene family looked on in horror. Now everyone stood still, staring at the ground in front of the barn doors that was littered with the bodies of walkers that had once been the Greenes' neighbors and loved ones. It was as though time had been cruelly paused, and this horrible moment had been frozen in front of them. But then suddenly, when they thought that that moment couldn't possibly get worse… it did. It got _a lot_ worse.

They heard a soft growl from behind the partially open barn doors, telling them that there was at least one more walker who had not yet emerged. They watched as that one more walker came through the giant wooden doors. The "person" who emerged was possibly the last one anyone expected… and definitely the last one they _wanted _to see come out of the barn.

_Sophia._ Or what had once _been_ Sophia. All those days spent looking for her, and she'd been in the barn. Maybe not the whole time, but at least since before Otis' untimely demise when they'd first arrived at the farm, according to Hershel.

And just like that, Carol's already broken world shattered into a billion pieces, and she was sure that it would never be whole again. Despite the walls that she had been slowly building around her heart, as day after day the search for her daughter had turned up nothing more than a doll, she could not help but sob to see that what had once been her beautiful baby was now the grotesque monster standing right before her eyes.

She shook, but remained standing, and within seconds she was propelling herself forwards with all of her might. The rest of the group stood and stared, dumbfounded and unable to move. Had it not been for Daryl, Carol would have probably have run to Sophia and thrown her arms around her, and very likely would have then been devoured by her before their very eyes. Luckily for Carol, Daryl reacted quickly and grabbed her with one strong arm as she tried to rush by him on her way to Sophia. She struggled, and together the two of them fell to the ground, but he held her tight.

Just before Sophia's walker reached the members of the group who stood in a line with their guns, Rick stepped past them and raised his, took aim, and fired. The group watched helplessly as the walker that had once been the girl they had searched so long and hard for fell to the ground.

Daryl managed to get Carol to her feet, telling her not to look. He had intended to get her away from the gruesome scene as quickly as possible, but as they stood up she wiggled out of his grasp and ran. This time she ran _away_ from the walkers, the barn, everything and everyone. She only know that she had to get away.

Daryl didn't run after her, but he did follow her. He kept her in his sights as she stumbled across the meadow, blinded by grief. She lost her balance several times, almost landing on her hands and knees, but she managed to stay upright. Before long she slowed to a walk, exhausted, her arms still flailing slightly as she went. Daryl slowed his pace as well, seeing that she was heading for the main camp. He watched as she disappeared into the RV, and took his time making his way there after her.

Carol went inside as she had so many other times before, and sat down at the small table, numb with shock. She hadn't thought the day would ever come, but this time, finally, she had no tears left. Her worst nightmare had come true, as she had feared it would all along. There was nothing left to do now. Nothing to hope for, no reason to go on. Nothing to do but sit and stare out the window and let the others do whatever it was that they would do. The world could go on without her, and there she would sit. The emptiness she felt was so overpowering, and yet, at the same time she didn't feel anything at all. She had built walls to protect herself, and now they were doing just that. She hadn't done it consciously, but as she had lost hope, more and more each day, the walls had grown. In her own way, she had been mourning Sophia for quite some time already without even realizing it.

Daryl stood outside under a nearby tree, eyes on the RV, with a heavy heart. He felt for Carol, knew that he could not begin to comprehend her loss. At the same time, his failure had just been made permanent. There would be no more chances.

_He had failed._ Sophia was gone, and he had _not_ saved her after all.

He'd never really tried to do anything important with his life before this, had always just followed Merle around, when he hadn't been in jail or juvie, and done the stupid shit that Merle had wanted him to do. This was the first time when he'd tried to do something that was _important_, that would have made a difference, made him feel like just maybe he wasn't as worthless as he'd always been told. He had really believed that he could do it, but obviously he had been stupid to believe that. He really_ was_ just as worthless as he'd his father and brother had said he was.

He had not let himself believe that it would end this way. Carol had given up, but he had believed to the end that he would find Sophia if only he tried hard enough. He silently cursed himself in his head, calling himself every horrible thing that Merle and his father had ever called him, plus others that he invented just for the occasion. He didn't know how he would face her – Carol – again, but he knew that hiding wasn't an option. In the end, sadly, she'd been right.

Finally he started walking slowly towards the RV, unsure of what he'd find when he went inside. When he did go up the creaky stairs and inside, he found her sitting as still as a statue at the small table. She didn't acknowledge his presence at first, just continued to stare out the window. He settled himself on the small counter that sat against the wall opposite where Carol sat. When she finally looked at him it was only for a few seconds, just long enough for him to nod slightly at her, before she peered out the window again, her expression blank. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but her stiff silence was a little bit unnerving. He had no idea what to say. The one thing he knew was that there was nothing he could possibly say that would make it any better. So he sat there, still holding the shotgun he had used by the barn, hoping that his presence, which was all he had to give, would mean something.

…

They were having a small funeral for Sophia and the Greenes' family members who'd come out of the barn. Try as they might, no one could understand why Carol hadn't attended, not even Daryl. She was sure that her not being there would just make him even angrier with her, because even if he hadn't realized it yet, she had a feeling he would sooner or later. It didn't matter. Why would it? Nothing mattered anymore. She'd tried to explain it to Daryl – that it wasn't Sophia who'd come out of the barn. It had _looked_ like Sophia, but _her_ Sophia, her baby, she was long gone. Maybe she'd known it all along. Maybe it wasn't that she'd been losing hope, maybe somehow she'd known that Sophia was already gone, and she'd just been slowly coming to terms with it, and letting go. She didn't need a funeral to do something she'd done long ago.

While everyone else was gathered by what was now a small graveyard in the yard of the farmhouse, Carol took off in the other direction for the pond. She didn't have any weapons with her, and she didn't think twice about wandering away by herself, with no protection, without telling anyone where she was going. Again, it didn't matter to her. Why should it? Nothing mattered.

She walked down to the pond and found the place that Daryl had showed her, where the Cherokee Roses were growing. She sat for a long time in the muddy grass and looked at them. The story that Daryl had told her about the legend of these flowers' beginnings on the day he'd brought her the single one in a beer bottle for a vase flashed through her mind. It was his voice she heard retelling the story in her mind this time, too.

Suddenly she couldn't sit and look at the flowers any longer. She reached out and plucked one, pulling the petals off first slowly, then faster and faster, feeling a sudden need to destroy them all. After the first flower, she resorted to pulling the plants out of the ground, plunging her hands into the dirt to get all the way down to the roots, then tugging madly until all of the stems had been removed from the earth, the smaller stems removed from the main ones. When she finished, she sat back and looked at what she had done. There was a tangle of green around her where she sat, piled high atop the grass. She had paid no attention to the thorns that stuck out from the vines, and her hands and arms now stung where the thorns had pierced her skin. No one in the camp was especially clean, because of the reality of the way they lived, though they did their best, but she was now especially filthy. After all, she'd been sitting in the muddy grass and pulling the plants out of the soft dirt, digging with her fingers and flinging the earth around her when she pulled them up.

With a sigh, seeing that there were no more rose covered vines to liberate from the earth, she lay back in the grass with a sigh, spreading her arms out on either side of her. She stared up at the sky in much the same way that she had stared at the ceiling of her tent only a few days before; eyes open but unfocused, not really seeing in front of her and oblivious to the world around her. It was all simply too much.

She wasn't sure how long she had been there, but at some point she began to focus on the white shapes high above her. _Clouds_. She was outside. She barely remembered coming down here, to the pond, but she knew that she couldn't lay in the grass forever, no matter how attractive that sounded at that moment. Every part of her body felt heavy, but she forced herself up to a sitting position, and then pushed past the unwillingness of her body to move any further, making herself stand up.

She suddenly didn't want to be out there alone, though she didn't want to be _with_ people either. She needed to get back to the others, she knew, because she could feel that she was in no condition to make rational decisions. She felt numb all over, which frightened a little part of her brain that knew that what was happening to her was not normal. So she pushed herself back towards the farm, and felt relief when she emerged from the trees and saw Shane in the distance. She didn't know him well, but he'd been in the group from the beginning, and was decent enough from what she did know of him. She pushed herself in his direction, exhausted, dirty and numb, relieved by the feeling that for once, she wasn't going to worry about taking care of anyone else. For once she was going to let someone else take over that role, because she just couldn't do it.


	24. Hurt

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead. Actually, I'm starting to feel like **_**they**_** own **_**me**_**! :)**

**Season 2, episode 9**

**The Greene Family's farm, evening**

Carol was certainly in shock. She had been moving as if on autopilot since she'd returned from the pond and Shane had cleaned her up. It was almost as if, when he'd washed the dirt from her hands and forearms, the fog that she had been under had lifted. Of course, she was far from being herself again, as was to be expected after such a trauma. However, she was suddenly able to at least function again, even if it _was_ very likely because she had numbed her senses to the feelings of grief that were simply too much. And so she began to fall into her old routines, slowly, if for no other reason than the fact that she needed to do _something_. She cooked, she cleaned, she did laundry. She helped the others in both the farmhouse and the camp, but avoided their eyes, tried not to see the way they looked at her. She was tired of their pity, and now she had it even more than she had when Sophia had been missing.

Daryl had made himself scarce since the funeral. When Carol stood and surveyed the property in between tasks, especially when she found herself on the porch of the farmhouse for a minute, she kept a watchful eye out for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. He had taken this all very hard – possibly harder than she had herself – and he was angry. She understood that, she had been angry too. But she'd slowly been letting go since Sophia had vanished, without even realizing it – it had been too painful to keep believing – whereas Daryl had believed to the end that they'd find her… so he was facing the reality of her loss for the first time. Carol sighed as she looked out across the open, grassy property towards the woods in the distance. She knew that he needed space, but she missed him already.

And then that evening they hadn't been able to find Lori. There were so many of them on the farm, even though they had lost a few people, and the property was vast, that sometimes you didn't know that someone was gone until everyone gathered together, or if you were looking for that person specifically. Nearly all of them had come to the farmhouse for dinner, with the exception of Hershel, Rick and Glenn, who hadn't returned from town yet, and Daryl, who'd withdrawn to his own campfire on the outskirts of the farm… and that's when they noticed that Lori wasn't there either. Everyone had jumped up from the table and they'd immediately combed the property. Without batting an eye, Carol had volunteered to go and ask Daryl if he knew where she was. She figured that she'd have the best shot of dealing with him out of all of them, despite how he'd probably react to her. But his anger at her didn't matter to her then, only finding Lori mattered in that moment. She wouldn't accept losing someone else, especially not so soon. And also, she missed him, and any excuse to go and talk to him was better than none.

Daryl had heard her coming towards his solitary campfire at the edge of the property. _Why couldn't they all just leave him the fuck alone? Especially her. Hadn't he done enough for her already?_ He pretended he didn't hear her coming. She'd wanted to know if he'd seen Lori, so he told her that she'd asked him to go into town after the guys, and that he'd refused. He was somewhat embarrassed when Carol had implied that he should've said something to someone, because he realized that she was right. He'd stared into the fire, not wanting to meet her eyes. She'd started to walk away, but then she'd stopped and come back towards him. That just made him angrier. It made him want to hurt her even more. "Don't do this._ Please_," she'd begged. They both knew what she was talking about, and he'd refused to meet her eyes once again. "I've already lost my girl." That was the breaking point for him. Whether that was her way of blaming him for losing her or not, that was how he'd taken it. _Dammit woman, IT'S NOT MY FAULT_, he'd wanted to scream at her.

He'd stood up angrily, and gotten in her face, reminding her, "Yeah, that wasn't my problem neither." Then he'd walked away.

But it wasn't enough, he'd still been angry. He'd walked the property for what felt like hours before returning to his solitary camp and taking up his position by the fire again, and had resumed scraping angrily at large sticks with his knife. Anything to try to relieve the frustration that had built up within him… except that it didn't work. Nothing seemed to work.

She'd come back again later that night. He felt as though everything she said to him – which hadn't been much, really – had made him angrier and angrier. To make it worse, she was eerily calm. No tears, not even any sign that she was upset. She just keep looking at him without looking away, her eyes boring into him. Like she knew something, like she was trying to tell him something, but without talking. All it did was piss him off more. He'd tried telling her to leave, going so far as to say that he didn't want her there, and still she stared at him, stared directly into his eyes. The more times he didn't get a reaction from her, the more desperately he wanted one, though he didn't know why.

"You're afraid," he'd told her. "You're afraid cause you're all alone. You got no husband, no daughter. You don't know what to do with yourself. You ain't my problem!" Still, none of that was enough, still she'd stared at him with that infuriating calm of hers. But then he finally gotten to her. He'd screamed in her face, "_Sophia wasn't mine! All you had to do was keep an eye on her!_" That was when he broke through her steely calm. He could see it as she flinched, snapping her chin up and recoiling slightly as if she'd been slapped. He had moved back out of her face but they had continued to stare at each other for several long minutes. Finally, without warning and without a single change in her expression, she'd turned and walked away, quickly and with determination. He found himself exhaling a long breath that he hadn't know he'd been holding all that time.

And suddenly he wondered why the hell he'd been so desperate to hurt her. He'd thought it would make him feel better, but somehow he felt worse.

…

The next morning, things finally settled down. Though everyone had feared the worst, Rick, Glenn and Hershel had finally made it back to the farm safely. Everyone had been gathered in the farmhouse to hear what had happened. Carol stood listening, watching as people once again didn't want to look her in the eyes. No one had known what to say to her since Sophia had come out of the barn, and so for the most part, they'd said nothing. She knew that it wasn't happening with malicious intent, but it was really getting to her by now. She had felt alone enough without being treated like she didn't exist. The only one who didn't try to mask their emotions around her was Daryl. Granted, the only emotion he had shown her so far was anger, but at least it was genuine. He'd looked her straight in the eyes and told her what he thought, which was more than she could say for anyone else.

She approached him in the living room, and just as she came close, he walked away. She saw him head for the front door, and she followed not far behind him. When she went out onto the wide front porch, she saw him there, standing by the railing.

She walked outside, past Daryl and continued further down the porch railing, toward her favorite corner, but still within view of the front door. She looked around at the Greene Family's vast property. Her eyes quickly darted in his direction, but he was looking into the distance, at the treeline, a scowl on his face. For a while, she'd been able to read him pretty well, despite his quiet nature. She wondered how long it would take him to stop being so angry at her. _If_ he'd stop being so angry at her. Their friendship had always seemed so effortless, so comforting… and now suddenly it was as though they were strangers. It made her sad. She had meant it when she'd said she couldn't stand to lose him, too… and now even though he was standing a few feet away, she felt like she'd lost him anyway.

As much as she believed – no, in her heart she _knew_ – that his anger was only directed at her because he didn't know what else to do with it, it stung just the same. Still, she accepted it. Though she knew that it was wrong, she'd noticed herself slipping into her old habit of talking to herself the way Ed once had. She would tell herself that she deserved Daryl's anger, or the group's silence. Then a minute later she'd shake her head and tell herself she was wrong. _This must be what it feels like to go crazy_, she thought as she struggled to silence one inner voice with another. She wished for the ease of what she and Daryl had had before Sophia had come out of the barn – though she had had no idea _what_ it had been. It didn't _matter_ what it had been. She was past questioning something, _anything_, good that happened to her in this miserable new existence – but she wasn't going to be the one to speak first. He was the one who was angry with her, whatever the reason. _He_ was the one working through something. As much as she wanted to help, and to have her friend back, he needed to do what he needed to do. She leaned her cheek against the support column of the covered porch and sighed, staring into space. She felt like she was floating in a void, unable to tether herself to anything.

He didn't turn his head, but his eyes flicked in her direction, resting his gaze on her for only a second before looking back at the property in front of them. Logically, he knew he was being ridiculous. How could _he_ be angry with _her,_ for fuck's sake? She hadn't chased Sophia into the woods, she hadn't left her alone in that creek bed, she hadn't failed to find her after she'd been lost… and he _knew,_ though he didn't want to admit it, that she _hadn't_ been implying that it was his fault that she hadn't been found in time. He knew that that was in his head. _She's fucking devastated by this, you jackass! She was telling you that she's already lost enough, and that she cares about you! Don't be an asshole! _So why the fuck was he still angry with her?

_Was _he still angry with her? Or was it just easier to be angry than to let himself care about her? He'd cared about Sophia, without ever really having _known_ her, and look where it had gotten him. Carol? He _knew_ her, without knowing how. He _understood_ her_. _She even seemed to understand _him_, which was simultaneously terrifying and calming. But for what? In the end it would all be the same as it had been with Sophia. Probably worse. Because as he had only just learned, when you let yourself care about something and then you lost that thing, it _hurt._ He hadn't been prepared for _how much_ it would hurt.


	25. Maybe

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead. Actually, I'm starting to feel like **_**they**_** own **_**me**_**! :) (And I have to admit, I don't mind at all)**

**Season 2, episode 10-12**

**The Greene Family's farm**

The days that followed dragged on, blurring into each other. She really wasn't paying attention to the passage of time, concentrating solely on what was happening at that moment. She had neither the desire nor the energy to stop and think either forwards or backwards in time. What had happened… it was all too painful to think about, and none of it could be changed. What was to come… what could possibly happen now that would make any difference? She had endured a torturous marriage for so long, praying that something would change, and when it finally had, well, she couldn't say for sure that the change had been for the better. Would she have gone back to her old life with Ed if it meant having Sophia back? She would have done _anything_ to have Sophia back. Especially now, because what did she have left to lose?_ Absolutely nothing. _But she would never _get_ Sophia back, so what was the point? Now she had no one. And so she filled the days trying to keep busy, trying to ease the feeling that she was a burden to the group, though really, she knew that she was.

Daryl continued to avoid her. When they _were_ in the same place at the same time, he would either regard her with a steely glare that gave away nothing, or he would avoid looking at her completely, much like the others. She sighed inwardly each time, cringing for a split second before the reflex she'd trained to numb herself to this pain kicked in, trying to squash the crush of despair she felt momentarily as she told herself once again that she deserved this treatment, and that she would just somehow have to do better if she hoped to deserve better. She had preferred his anger, and now she didn't even have that. She was afraid that on top of everything else, she and Daryl would be stuck in this limbo forever, and that thought was simply too much to bare. No, it was better to concentrate only on what was in front of her in that moment, the only part of her current reality over which she had any shred of control.

He hadn't talked to her in a few days. He still couldn't quite work things out in his head, no matter how long he spent in the woods or how many sticks he pared down to nothing. He couldn't understand all these feelings, which were such a foreign concept to him. He'd seen her around the farm, even been around the group at the same time as her a few times, but he'd decided that it was better not to engage. Better to be on his own. He'd been right at the beginning, and it had been stupid to start to feel differently: he didn't need any of these assholes, anyway.

Didn't need them, didn't _want_ to need them… same thing, right?

…

As he emerged from the treeline behind the barn late one afternoon, he saw Lori and Carol having a heated discussion, their voices carrying across the open expanse that separated him from them just right so that he could hear some of what was being said. He was surprised, since Carol never had unkind words for _anyone_, and he couldn't remember her ever raising her voice before. But something had made her angry, that much was clear. He heard her shouting, "Everyone either avoids me or they treat me like I'm crazy. I lost my _daughter_. I didn't lose my _mind_!" Then he watched her storm away. He felt something twist inside him, knowing that he was now as guilty of this as everyone else. More so, really, because he somehow knew her better than all of the rest of them put together, and he'd done something that had made her believe that he was a decent man – though he still didn't understand _how _he'd done that – and he knew that having made her believe in him and then pulling away had been worse than if they'd never been close to start with. He felt like the shit that he'd always been told that he was. And yet still, he stayed away.

…

It had happened again. They'd lost another member of their group, of what was coming to feel like their family. Dale had been walking outside the fences, upset with the group's plan to kill Randall. Dale had come upon a cow that had been attacked by a walker, and then suddenly the walker had come up behind him. There was nothing that any of them could do for him by the time they got there.

Rick had been overcome with emotion, and had been simply unable to put Dale out of his considerable misery. So without giving it a second thought, Daryl had taken the gun from him and he had shot Dale in the head, to end his suffering and to keep him from turning. It had needed to be done. Sure, Rick was the group's leader, but in that moment, seeing that Rick just couldn't bring himself to do it, Daryl had stepped up. Maybe he didn't feel quite as strongly about wanting to remain outside the group as he had thought that he had, because in the moment he had just known that it was the right thing to do. For Rick.

For the group.

Maybe he didn't want to be on his own, after all.

…

Carol hadn't been at Sophia's funeral, but she did show up for Dale's. That felt wrong somehow, but she'd had her reasons and she stood by them. Still, it was agonizing, standing there by the grave that had been dug for Sophia. It didn't matter that she didn't recognize the body inside as her daughter. It helped that the focus today was on Dale, and she could be alone with her thoughts about Sophia, in a way. Her mind wandered to her baby, and she only heard parts of Rick's eloquent words about the group's idealistic and opinionated father figure.

Though she stood within the group – Andrea to her left and Rick only slightly farther away from her on her right – she felt completely alone, as if there wasn't another human being for hundreds of miles in any direction. It had been the same feeling she'd had for days now, and it actually seemed to be worse when she was around other people. At least when she was by herself there was no expectation that there would be any human connection. Somehow feeling the lack of bonds with anyone while standing in a group of people was far, far worse, because it wasn't supposed to be that way. In reality it hadn't been so long since Sophia had come out of the barn, since she and Daryl had stopped speaking, since the group had inadvertently isolated her – less than a week. And yet, it could have been a million years.

He stood slightly away from the group, maybe five or six steps behind Andrea. He was there with them, but at the same time separate. It was how he had always felt, really. There but not there. Part of the group, but… not. That is, it had been how he had felt until Carol had begun to convince him that he deserved a place with the rest of them. That he was just as good as the others. It was as though she had seen something in him that no one else had seen, that he _himself_ had never seen. He glanced at Carol's back. Her shoulders were slightly hunched, and she was rocking ever so slightly back and forth. She was looking past Dale's grave – he could tell from the angle at which she held her head – no doubt looking at Sophia's. It struck him that this was the first time she'd been to the graves, since she had refused to come to the previous funeral.

Suddenly, he had a flashback to the days on the highway when Carol had sat on the guardrail, refusing to move from her place as she waited, hoping to see Sophia emerge from the trees at any moment. To when he had sat down beside her. He remembered that just sitting there, he had felt her noticeably relax from his presence alone. He sighed quietly to himself, realizing how easy it would be to take a few steps and stand beside her. It was a small gesture, less than a gesture really. It would cost him nothing, but it would mean an enormous amount to her, and he knew it. He didn't understand _why_ such a nobody such as himself meant _anything_ to her, but deep down he knew that he did, though he had fought to deny it. Before he had time to tell himself why he wouldn't do it, he felt his feet slowly moving him forward.

There was a shift in the air behind her, and she noticed the difference at once. She didn't turn around, didn't move a muscle. She remained still, staring at Sophia's grave, the anguish she was feeling written all over her face. And yet, she didn't have to move a muscle to know what had happened. She just felt it. Daryl had slowly taken a few steps forward and was now standing only a few more steps behind the empty space between her and Andrea. If he'd whispered something, she was pretty sure she'd have been close enough to hear it. He was just far enough away for her to know that he was still processing whatever he was going through, but close enough to tell her that he was there.

She could feel his eyes on the side of her face, though she still didn't look at him. Somewhere deep inside she felt the faintest glimmer of hope, less than a spark but more than nothing. After the void she'd been floating in since the last time they had really spoken, it felt like the sun shining directly in her face after a long, black night. She didn't flinch, but she felt herself relax ever so slightly.

He wondered what he was doing, stepping forward towards her, cutting the distance between them in half. What had made him do that? It was as though his feet had acted independently before his brain had been able to react. She continued to stare at Sophia's grave. Her face – he could see it better now - reflected the inner turmoil she must be feeling as she stood there for the first time. Even so, as he stood so close to her, he swore he could somehow _see_ tension being visibly released from her shoulders. How was that even possible? Was it really _that_ easy to do something to help her? _Why the fuck are you still shutting her out?_ screamed his brain. _She don't want nothing from you besides just bein' there! Even __**your**__ dumbass should be able to manage that!_

The ceremony concluded, and slowly everyone dispersed in pairs and small groups, attempting to mutter comforting words to each other. Carol ignored the concerned looks that the others gave her as they stood awkwardly, a few of them attempting to speak to her soothingly, but once again, no one really knowing what to say. She ignored them all, and continued to stand in the same spot, staring at the graves, until they had all gone. She didn't want their pity any more today than any other day. She wanted it even less, actually.

As the crowd had begun to break up, Daryl had backed up the few steps towards where he had stood initially, further away. He was still standing there when she turned around slowly, lost in her thoughts.

The two of them were now the only ones who remained by the graves. She was looking at the ground as she turned around, in something of a daze, and only looked up when she noticed a pair of boots nearby. Their eyes locked for a few seconds, and despite the fact that neither of their faces showed any change in expression, it seemed that some sort of understanding passed between them. Then Daryl nodded at her quickly, as he had done many times since they first met, before he turned and strode away. It wasn't much, but, like before, it was more than nothing.

Maybe, just maybe, it would be okay after all.


	26. Escape

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own The Walking Dead, and it has been brought to my attention that I think about it too much – the person who said that, who shall remain nameless (my husband) is clearly just jealous… how could you possibly think about The Walking Dead TOO MUCH? :)**

**Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who's still reading! It's hard to believe this is chapter 26 and we're not even **_**quite**_** through season **_**2! **_**Sorry if you think the end of this chapter went a little overboard, I just couldn't do angsty anymore… you'll see… As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please leave me a review!**

**Season 2, episode 13**

**The Greene Family's farm, night**

Just as Rick and Daryl were getting ready to take Randall off the farm and leave him stranded an hour away, T-Dog had discovered that Randall was _missing_ from the shed where they'd been holding him. Shane had emerged from the woods with what appeared to be a broken nose, saying that Randall had jumped him, then had gotten away, that he was now armed, and that he had escaped into the woods. Daryl, Glenn, Shane and Rick had taken off after him. There was never a question in Daryl's mind of whether he would go – the group needed his help to protect the others. Despite the fact that feeling needed, even feeling a part of the group, was so new to him, he had no intention of letting them down.

_This time, he wouldn't fail. _

The rest of the group had huddled in the farmhouse with the doors locked, afraid that one of two things would happen: that Randall would come back to hurt them, or that the other men _wouldn't_ come back. Or even worse, that _both_ of these things would come to pass.

Eventually Daryl and Glenn had returned – the four men had split into pairs – and had news of a startling discovery. After not having found anything in the direction that Shane had insisted they search, they had gone back to the beginning, where Daryl had used his tracking skills and had picked up the trail that he hadn't seen the first time. They'd encountered two sets of tracks walking together for much longer than Shane had said they should have… as well as a walker who had been Randall before _someone _had broken his neck. Things weren't looking good at all. Daryl was about to go back out in search of Rick – Lori had begged him to – when they heard a gunshot.

And then, once again, what the group had _thought _was a bad situation became the easy part, merely the calm before the storm.

Daryl, Glenn and Andrea were the first ones to reach the front porch, the first ones to see it, to stare in disbelief at the biggest herd of walkers that any of them had ever seen. They were coming over the hill and directly towards the farm. There wasn't time to do anything except find as many guns and as much ammunition as possible.

Chaos erupted then. Lori was suddenly panicking because she couldn't find Carl anywhere. She and Carol had quickly searched the farmhouse and nearby buildings from top to bottom, but he was nowhere to be found. Lori was ready to lose her mind, and Carol, ever the first to be compassionate when someone else needed her, forgot everything that had happened between them and tried her best to reassure Lori that her son was safe, that he must have gone to Rick, that they were probably together. And that _she_ had to leave the farmhouse before it was too late.

But where _were_ Rick and Shane?

Everywhere there was screaming and gunshots, and echoing in everyone's ears was the horrible sound of the walkers' growls. They were _everywhere_. It was as if a nightmare had come to life. No matter how many they killed, more appeared to take their places.

There was no time and no way to flee as one group, to be sure that everyone was accounted for. As much as possible, they loaded into the vehicles that they had, helping each other escape the farm as they could. Carol suddenly found herself alone, being chased by two walkers, towards the shed. The panic she felt had threatened to paralyze her, and it was all that she could do to hold them off. Still, it would not have been enough if Andrea had not gotten to her just then. Then Carol was free and Andrea only narrowly managed to shoot another walker who'd come up behind her, then fell on top of her after she silence its growls at point blank range.

Carol didn't know what had happened to Andrea or to anyone else, all she knew was that she had run, as far and as fast as she could away from the farmhouse. She didn't know how to kill walkers, nor did she have a weapon. Once again she was useless, a burden to the group, and she was almost certain that she wasn't going to make it off of the farm. She was beginning to feel her strength give out as she propelled herself away from the main buildings, towards the road. She didn't know who, if anyone, had escaped the property alive, or who might still be there who could possibly help her.

Then suddenly, not too far off down the road she could see Daryl still sitting on his motorcycle. She summoned every bit of strength she could and released the loudest scream that her lungs could produce, hoping that he would hear her and hoping that though she surely didn't deserve it, he would come back for her.

She continued to stumble forward, nearly ready to collapse, with relief flooding through her body as she heard the motorcycle rumble to life and saw the dark shape approaching. He stopped his bike a few feet from her, and she never thought she could be so happy to hear the words "Come on, I ain't got all day," in his typical sour tone. She had only just loosely slipped her arms around his waist when they took off down the road, narrowly escaping the fastest of the walkers who had been only a few feet behind her.

She closed her eyes against the wind that was rushing all around her, unable to believe that she had made it out alive. The adrenaline that had kept her moving to avoid the walkers had suddenly drained out of her, and she realized that she was beyond exhausted. She wasn't sure how long she'd be able to hold on, to keep her balance and keep herself upright, but she knew that there was no other choice.

They'd been driving for hours, or at least they felt like they had. Daryl knew that eventually they'd need a break. Riding a motorcycle wasn't quite the same as riding in a car. You couldn't just let your passenger fall asleep, and yet you also couldn't talk to them to keep them awake. Even if he _was_ able to stay upright through sheer willpower, that didn't mean Carol would be able to. They hadn't seen any walkers for the past 20 minutes or so of their drive, so he figured that one patch of tree lined back roads was as good a place to pull over as any other. He moved to the shoulder of the road out of habit – the chances of another vehicle coming along were slim, but hey, you never knew, right? – and brought the bike to a stop. Carol quickly and self-consciously released her hands from around his waist, hopping off the seat onto her sore legs. Daryl parked the bike and got down slowly. They stood a few feet apart, looking at each other, at a loss as to what to do next, before Carol broke eye contact, looking at the ground. What had happened at the farm was still such a shock, and this was the first chance either of them had had to stop and process it. He watched her with concern.

"Y'alright?" he asked quietly after a minute or so of silence. It had come out in that low, gravely voice that she hadn't heard since before he'd gotten so angry with her, the one that he had always seemed to reserve only for her. She almost smiled then. She might have if she hadn't been so overwhelmed and exhausted. Hearing that familiar tone again after what felt like a lifetime was like an oasis in the desert. She just hoped that it wasn't a mirage. It was already by far the nicest conversation they'd had in at least a week, and he'd only uttered less than two words.

She nodded her head, hugging her arms around herself and rubbing her hands up and down her arms to combat the chill in the air that had combined with the hours and hours of rushing air. The combination had succeeded in chilling her to the bone.

"We should rest a little while, then make our way back up ta the highway, up by…" he trailed off, not wanting to say _where we left supplies for Sophia_. He let the rest of that sentence go and continued. "If the rest of the group made it out, I think that's where they'll go."

Carol nodded her head again, looking down at the ground. She knew exactly what spot he was talking about, and she knew exactly why he hadn't finished his sentence. Of course she did. Somehow it was like the past week hadn't happened and they understood each other again. Or, she _hoped_ that's what was happening. At this point she couldn't afford to assume anything. She couldn't go through all that again, feeling like the bottom had dropped out of her world. She didn't quite trust herself to speak just then.

"We won't stay here long, maybe an hour," he told her. "Ya cold?" He was looking at her closely now. He suddenly noticed her shivering and realized that she was rubbing her arms to create friction, warmth.

She shook her head slightly, uttering a "no," that barely made it past her lips. It wasn't even loud enough to count as a whisper. She was freezing, but she was alive, and to her that meant that she was fine. Besides, she didn't want to be any more of a burden than she already was, didn't want him to go to any more trouble on her account than was necessary. She could deal with cold. Besides, the tone of voice he was using to talk to her took her mind off the cold. She was just enjoying the fact that suddenly he was talking to her like he had when things had been good, and she was terrified that any minute now he'd go back to angry, or worse, to not speaking to her. She wouldn't ask for a single thing from him if he'd just keep talking to her like his friend again.

He watched her carefully as she tried to tell him she wasn't cold. _Liar,_ he thought in disbelief. It was completely obvious, but he didn't call her on it. _You've been such an asshole to her lately, why would she bother to tell you the truth? She don't want to look weak in front of you, don't wanna ask you for nothin, you fuckin piece of shit, _he told himself.

His head hung a little lower at the thought, before he remembered what he'd promised himself as they'd driven for the past few hours. He was going to find a way to fix it, this, whatever "it" was. The two of them. Their narrow escape from the farm had been a wake-up call to him. Who knew if any of the others had even survived? Of course the odds were that someone had, but nothing was certain anymore. So he had decided that even if he had to do it slowly – 'cause he sure as hell didn't know what the fuck he was actually going to _do –_ he was going to _at least_ stop being a jackass. To her, anyway. She deserved so much better than the way he'd been acting lately. As far as not being a jackass to the others… well, no promises.

"A'ight, well yer not cold, but I think we should build a fire anyway, fer while we're sittin here," he told her.

_Dammit_, she thought to herself, _I forgot it's useless to lie to him._ She nodded, and they ventured carefully in search of firewood and a sheltered spot for their campfire. He walked in front of her into the trees, crossbow ready, keeping her behind him protectively. She hated feeling defenseless, and knew that she needed to do something about that, but she also knew without a sliver of doubt that she was safe with him. She had _always_ felt safe with him.

It wasn't long before they had a small fire started, and she plopped down in front of it immediately, as close as she safely could. She held her hands even a little closer than was probably wise, greedily trying to absorb as much of the heat as possible. Daryl was still standing nearby, watching her.

"Yeah, yer not cold or nothing," he said sarcastically, but not unkindly, shaking his head.

"Busted," she whispered, not even sure if she'd said it loudly enough for him to hear her. She was still staring at her hands, which she continued to hold, palms up, towards the flames. She almost smiled then, but held it in. She wasn't trying to be unkind, but she wasn't going to let him get off that easily either. He at least owed it to her to say _something_ about what had happened between them in the past week. She was understanding, and she may not have deserved much, but she knew she was worth at least that much.

He walked over and sat down next to her, leaving a space between them big enough for a small child, but not an adult. He stared into the flames just as she was doing. She immediately uncrossed her legs, pulling her knees up to her chest in order to make herself smaller, to increase the space between them even a little more. _To protect herself_, he realized. He felt a stab of guilt and realized that he deserved that reaction… but reminded himself that he _could_ fix it. He had realized as they drove away from the farm that his anger at her was gone, and he had suddenly remembered that he _knew_ her, possibly better than he knew himself. He'd already known he was being an ass, and that he needed to stop. Now was the time.

He turned and looked at her as she stared into the fire intently. Yes, they'd been through hell yet _again_ that day, but still, he wasn't used to seeing her like this. No matter what had happened at the farm, he hadn't seen her like _this_. She hadn't been this bad since the quarry, when she cowered before that bastard husband of hers, at least not that he could remember. These days she wasn't usually the distant one. She had become quietly strong in the short time he'd known her, and this new, withdrawn version of her scared him a little. "Ya sure yer okay? Ya not bit or nothing?" he asked with concern. _She's probly been like this the whole time you've been such a jackass to her, ya just didn't know cause ya shut her out, dumbass,_ he told himself. Again, guilt.

She shook her head once again, eyes still on the flames in front of her, her arms now wrapped tightly around her knees. She couldn't even bring herself to look at him as she whispered simply, "It's just… I missed you."

A confusing, swirling mixture of guilt, regret, embarrassment, and a strange warmth that he couldn't quite identify ran down his spine and then spread out through his body. He hung his head, looking at the dirt in front of the fire. He knitted his fingers together in his lap and fidgeted with them.

"I… I'm…" he started two different times. In two different conversations with her now, he had tried to start with the same two words. Somehow he never seemed to be able to get those two stupid words out.

She turned and looked at him then, and suddenly she looked more like herself, and less like this new, withdrawn version of Carol who didn't seem to trust him. Not that he blamed her. He knew that he deserved to have her treat him the way she was now. But the look in her eyes at that moment, it reminded him that they understood each other. _That she knew that he was sorry._ He wondered, not for the first time, how that was possible. _What the hell was I thinking? How did I forget this?_ he wondered to himself.

After holding his gaze for a minute, she whispered "I know," a smile creeping across her face. Suddenly they were having the same conversation as they had had at the farm – if you could call it a conversation. She knew from looking at him that he was sorry. She realized then that she didn't actually need him to _say_ it, exactly, because she could just tell. He _was_ saying it, in a way that only she understood. However, she did need him to prove it, not with one sentence or one action, but by acting like her friend again.

"_Stop_," he said instinctively, in that very "Daryl" way that he always said it. It was more a reaction to the fact that she'd read his mind once again than to her few words or even the knowing smile on her face. That just made her smile grow. He shook his head at her.

He realized that he was smiling back at her in spite of himself, and they both turned their faces back to the fire. No discussion was necessary, they were good again. She couldn't help feeling that despite everything, including the terrible events of that same night, life didn't seem quite as grim as it had when she'd woken up that morning.

They stayed there in what was now comfortable silence for a little longer, letting the fire get lower. Carol was still sitting with her knees up in front of her, but they were no longer pulled in tightly. She had leaned forward, folded her arms across the front of her so that her left hand sat on the outside of her right knee, her right hand rested just below her left shoulder, and her chin was sitting on her right wrist, her head turned at an angle so that she could look back and forth between the fire in front of her and Daryl on her left without having to turn her head. The contented smile on her face said all he needed to know.

Finally Daryl reached across the space between them to nudge her with his elbow. "C'mon, let's get going. Time to go find the others." He pulled himself up off the ground, then looked back down at her, still sitting by the fire, watching him. She stuck out her bottom lip slightly, pouting, but still smiling. He rolled his eyes at her. "Woman, we can have another campfire another day! C'mon." He held out his hand to help pull her up, and she accepted it with a chuckle. They put out the last of the fire and walked back to Daryl's bike, trying to ignore the exhaustion that was overtaking them as the sky grew lighter.

Daryl climbed back onto the motorcycle, holding it steady as she hopped on behind him. As she did, he turned around so he could see her, and said "And for god's sake, this time would ya please hold on tighter to me? Last thing I need is for you to fall off."

"If you insist," Carol replied, shaking her head in disbelief and trying not to let the surprise she felt register in her voice. Not only did she know how Daryl felt about physical contact, but she knew that she had just been given the Daryl equivalent of her own "I can't lose you too," from the previous week. She fought back the smile that was threatening to crack her face wide open, which was silly because he'd already turned back around and couldn't see her. Apparently this was not a mirage after all. As instructed, she wrapped her arms more tightly around his waist. She definitely didn't mind _this _safety precaution.

The bike rumbled to life and Daryl steered them back onto the road, on their way to a spot that Carol dreaded seeing more than almost any other, but hopefully towards people that she prayed were alive. She suddenly felt stronger, that just maybe she'd be able to stand in that spot without falling to pieces, unlike the last time she'd been there.

There were so many things that were so wrong in their world at that moment, but she had only needed one thing to go right.

And it had.


	27. Good

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own The Walking Dead. Stop rubbing it in! (Wait, what do you mean I'm the one who keeps saying it? :D )**

**Author's Note: Thanks to Poppy P for always finding my factual errors for me – I'm so impressed! Also thanks to everyone who has left reviews on this story. Of course I write it because I **_**love**_** the characters and the show, but I also **_**love**_** hearing that others are enjoying it. :)**

**Season 2, episode 13**

**The highway outside Atlanta, morning**

As they had approached that fateful spot on the highway where so much had happened in the not so distant past, Carol's stomach had been in knots. She had tried to take deep breaths, to tell herself that she was stronger now, that she would be able to stand in that spot, that she would not fall apart this time. After all, she was not alone. Trying to comprehend that simple fact was still somewhat difficult for her, but her arms were around Daryl's waist as the motorcycle sped down the tree lined country roads en route to their destination, and that was all the proof she needed. She told herself to focus on what was literally in front of her, instead of what was figuratively behind her, and she felt herself hold onto him just a little bit tighter. _It will be okay. It will be okay_, she had repeated over and over to herself.

They had been hoping for a miracle – that the others would have made it off the farm safely – and before they even reached the rendez vous point, they knew the good news, that at least some of them _had_ made it. By the time they pulled up to that hauntingly familiar place, they were leading a three vehicle caravan. When everyone stopped and exited their vehicles, they were delighted to learn that so many of them were safe. Lori was reunited with Rick and Carl, Hershel with Maggie and Beth. The other survivors – Daryl, Carol, T-Dog and Glenn, were equally delighted to see so many of them alive. Of course, they had lost people. As a group, they were able to confirm to each other that Shane, Patricia, and Jimmy were gone. They weren't sure about Andrea, but it didn't look good for her.

Carol had stood against the back of an open hatch back, a few feet away from Daryl, listening to the group while breathing deeply to maintain her composure. She felt immense relief that so many of them were safe, these people who were quickly coming to feel like family. After what had happened at the farm the previous night, they all looked at each other in a new light, and she no longer felt as though they were looking at her with pity. The survivors looked at each other with _relief_, nothing more_. _

She didn't feel like the same woman who had sat on the guardrail at the edge of the interstate, staring into the trees. At that thought, her eyes darted for a second to the green at the edge of the road, and a dull stab of pain passed through her, causing her to suck in a quick breath. The feeling was gone again in seconds. While it still stung to look in that direction, it almost felt like she was reliving someone else's terrible memories. Her eyes moved instead to each of the people in front of her, coming to rest on Daryl a few feet to her right. Being here this time felt different.

It had been quickly determined that they needed to move on, having accounted for everyone who had or had not made it off the farm. They split themselves between three vehicles – Daryl's motorcycle, the old, beat up red truck and the newer model SUV that Maggie and Glenn had driven from the farm. As they split themselves into groups for each of the vehicles, Carol had wondered who she should go with. She didn't want to assume that Daryl wanted her to ride with him again, and she stood awkwardly trying to figure out what to do. Then he'd looked at her and turned his head slightly toward the bike, indicating that she should follow him. As the others piled into the cars and the two of them settled themselves on the seat, he turned around to look at her, much like he had when they'd gotten on the last time.

"Y'alright?" he asked with concern in his voice. She couldn't help but smile a little, knowing that he was asking because of where they were, and that he knew what she'd been thinking about while they'd been there. She couldn't get over the fact that he always just seemed to _know_.

"Better this time than last time I was here," she replied with a sigh. All things considered, it was the best she could have hoped for.

"Good. Now hold on," he reminded her as he turned back around. It was so cute when big, bad Daryl acted protective, she thought to herself, her smile growing a little bit wider as she recognized his short reply for what it was: proof that he cared about her.

Carol did as she was told, holding on tightly to him, and the caravan rumbled to life, taking them away from this spot. They were moving on. It really was the only way to survive now, both literally and figuratively… just keep moving on.

…

The red truck had run out of gas, so they'd had no choice but to stop where they did. Rick had decided that they'd camp there for the night, despite the protests of several group members. They didn't have a lot of options, since they couldn't all fit into one of the two cars, even with Carol riding with Daryl on his motorcycle. They'd have to get more gas, but Rick wasn't comfortable with them going out on a run for gas until the next morning. He didn't want any of them to get stuck somewhere else at nightfall, just in case. There were no _good_ options, as had happened to them so often, just multiple bad ones.

And then suddenly the conversation had turned to Randall, to how he hadn't been bitten by a walker but had turned anyway, and Rick had been forced to tell people what Jenner had told him at the CDC: that they were all now infected, and that it didn't matter how they died, anyone who died would come back as a walker. Rick had tried to justify the fact that he had known for so long but hadn't told the rest of them, but the others had been angry with him for keeping it a secret. Rick, frustrated that they had reacted the way they had to his decision, when he felt that he'd made his decision with the best of intentions, stalked away from the group.

Once the others recovered from the initial shock and had had some time to vent their displeasure to each other, they agreed that angry or not, they'd need to start making camp for the night. Not far off the road there was a small enclosure of low stone walls that they determined would make a passable shelter area for the night. At least it provided cover from walkers on a few sides, even if it was open, leaving them slightly less vulnerable. It was the best they could do, so hopefully it would be enough.

Maggie, Glenn, Beth and Carol set about finding sticks they could use as firewood, while Daryl set off into the trees to hunt for some meat that they could eat, since they really had no other supplies besides a few things they'd had in the car. By the time Daryl got back with what he'd managed to catch – a string of squirrels and even a rabbit – they had a fire started and everyone was gathered around. There wasn't a lot of conversation, but it wasn't surprising, considering everything that they'd been through in the past 24 hours. Mostly they were huddled together, grateful for the heat, the light and the fact that they were alive.

Daryl had quickly cleaned the meat and turned it over to Carol and Lori, who'd roasted it the best they could, skewered on sticks over the fire since they had no pans or utensils. It wasn't the first time they'd cooked that way, and they doubted that it would be the last. There were no complaints from the members of the group as everyone was given a meager portion.

Watching from the outskirts of the group where he was leaning against one of the stone walls, Daryl watched Carol purposefully divide the meat between the people around the fire, setting aside a portion carefully for Rick. As she stood and brought him his helping of "campfire meat on a stick," he shook his head in disbelief. He'd just watched her divide the meat deliberately into nine servings, giving one to everyone and leaving one for Rick.

There were ten people in the group.

She walked up and handed him the kebab-like creation with a smile. It was bigger than most of the others that he'd watched her hand around. "Look, a feast on a stick," she said with a glint in her eye as she handed it to him. He took the stick from her hand but made no move to eat it, just continued looking at her. Her face immediately filled with confusion.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Ya know I just watched ya, right?" he asked quietly.

_Uh-oh_, she thought to herself, _I'm busted._

"Watched me… cooking?" she asked innocently, knowing exactly what he was saying but pretending she had no idea.

_Oh, she thinks she can get away with it?_ he thought, laughing a little bit inside. "I watched ya split the food into nine helpins, even though you know well as I do that there's ten of us, and give one to everybody here, set one aside that I'm assumin is for Rick, bring one ta me, and not eat a damn thing yourself," he replied knowingly. He crossed his arms across his chest, careful not to drop his stick of meat. He was actually a little upset with her.

She made a face and looked at the ground, not trying to hide her guilt since she knew it wouldn't work. "I'm not hungry," she grumbled.

"Bullshit," he spat at her in annoyance. " 'M I gonna have to watch ya cook every meal ya make sure ya save yerself something ta eat?"

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous!" she replied indignantly.

"Might have to actually sit with ya and make sure ya eat though," he said thoughtfully.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Is that the new way of asking someone out on a date?" she joked. His face suddenly blushed beet red, his expression slightly mortified. This was exactly the reaction she was going for, which made her smile. The focus had successfully been shifted away from her, as she wanted it to be.

"_STOP," _he replied seriously, trying to regain his composure. To cover up his embarrassment, he focused on the stick of food he was holding, removed half of the small amount of meat on it and then handed the stick back to her. "Ya better eat this," he growled in annoyance.

She'd expected him to do that ever since she realized she wasn't going to get away with serving everyone but herself. She sighed and accepted the stick of meat without argument, removing a piece and taking a bite of it. They stood side by side and ate their half portions in silence, watching the rest of the group sitting by the fire.

She thought for a minute, then nudged him in the side with her elbow and said, "So, this is how it's gonna be from now on, huh?"

"Yup," he replied without looking at her or changing his expression, not missing a beat. _I hope so, _he thought to himself.

"Good," she answered quietly, exhaling slowly as the corners of her lips curled into a smile.

"Pfffft," he responded, as usual.

_It's funny,_ she thought_, when people used to use the expression "It's not the end of the world," I always pictured the end of the world as… lonelier_.


	28. Never

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but the shirt I'm wearing does say "Keep Calm and Call Daryl." That's close enough for me. :)**

**Author's Note: This chapter is a little different, since it takes place between the seasons and therefore I had a lot less "guidance" from the show than I've gotten used to while writing this story. I'll be linking back up with the story for season 3, so I tried to keep everything in character. At the same time, well, you know I can't resist putting those cute moments in there. Hopefully I managed not to go overboard… I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts! Oh, and as a warning, I made **_**myself**_** cry at one particular point while writing this chapter, so tissues may be a good idea… Enjoy! :)**

**Between season 2 and season 3**

**Makeshift camp in the woods, night**

They watched as Rick stalked off through the empty doorway in the stone walls, off into the trees. Everyone was a little bit stunned by the speech he had just given. He'd basically just told them that he was in charge, and if they didn't like it then they could leave the group. They'd all been through a lot, and none of them thought that the decisions that Rick had made up til now had been easy. He'd done alright as leader, for the most part. Still, they were a bit taken aback by his declaration, even those who hadn't known Rick very long.

And yet… they _were_ still alive, and they knew that Rick had played a bit part in that. And since it didn't seem like there was any better option looming nearby, everyone had remained where they were. Leaving the group seemed too much like suicide. No one could survive on their own anymore. A few of them considered it from time to time, but when you really thought about it, leaving the group didn't make sense. Besides, despite all of their disagreements, they'd become like a family.

There were quiet, murmured conversations around the fire after Rick walked away, but soon people began finding a corner to curl up in to attempt to sleep. Their only semblance of shelter was the stone walls that appeared to have once been part of a house, but it was better than nothing. As much as they could, they grouped together near the walls to lay down to sleep, feeling more secure if at least one side of them wasn't exposed to the unknown. Lori was the first one to pull Carl and their few possessions towards one of the walls. Carl laid down facing the protection of the stones, Lori curled protectively behind him. The others soon followed, clumping together as appropriate: Maggie and Glenn, Hershel beside Beth. Rick was pacing outside the walls somewhere, and T-Dog was still on watch. That only left Daryl and Carol now sitting by the fire in silence. It was still a little awkward between them after their earlier conversation about Rick.

Carol fought off a yawn, then reluctantly stretched her arms above her head. Without a word she scooted herself back a few feet so that she was sitting with her back against one of the stone walls. Her legs were bent slightly so that her knees sat up in front of her, and her arms rested against them. After staring into the fire for a few minutes, Daryl glanced back and saw her sitting there, still upright. Remembering his promise to himself, he got up slowly, lifting his crossbow from where it sat beside him. He walked the few steps back towards where she was sitting and sat down next to her, so that there was about an inch of space between their shoulders. He laid his crossbow down in the dirt on the other side of him.

"Still havin nightmares?" he asked, assuming from the fact that she looked like she intended to fight sleep with everything she had that this was the case.

"Yeah," she replied quietly.

They sat in silence, listening to the sounds of the night around them. Rick replaced T-Dog on watch, hoisting himself up to stand atop one of the stone walls. T-Dog found a spot on the ground and they heard him snoring quietly not long after. They sat listening to the crackle of the fire and the sounds of the night.

"They're usually about Sophia," Carol whispered suddenly. Daryl's eyes darted to the side of her face, turning his head only ever so slightly, but otherwise he kept himself still. He waited for her to go on. "I keeping seeing her being chased by those walkers over and over again. Until they finally _catch her_." Her voice broke on the last words. He couldn't even imagine how painful it had to be for her to relive that every night.

She continued to stare into the fire. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and went on. "In my dream, I know that I should do something, _anything_, but I just _can't_. I stand there helplessly and _watch_ it happen, again and again." He heard the sadness in her voice before he saw the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. She turned her head slightly and locked eyes with him, then quickly looked down at the dirt in front of her. Still, he didn't speak. "Other times," she continued, "they're about Ed. Like he was at the quarry… and, before all…. this. He's still in my head sometimes, even when I'm awake. Telling me I'm a burden, worthless."

_So __**that**__ was where she'd gotten the idea that she was a burden,_ he thought.

Daryl had just gone from sympathetic over Carol's dreams about Sophia to angry that Ed was still there as well in only a few seconds. _How dare that asshole still harass her? _he thought. They were dreams, but they were real to her. Worse than real even, because they were the reason that she now refused to sleep. They all needed to sleep when they could, now more than ever. It was the only way they could be alert enough to survive.

She stared into the fire again. "He was there especially the last few… during the time when, uh… when you…"

"When I was bein a jackass," he finished for her, grimacing. She just smiled. "He's gone now, remember?" Daryl said quietly, in as close to a soothing tone as he could manage.

"And so is she," Carol replied sadly in a matter of fact voice.

Daryl closed his eyes, feeling a stab of guilt and knowing that the best he could hope to do was to ease that pain she felt, that he'd never be able to erase it. He opened his eyes again and looked at her, bumping her shoulder slightly with his to get her attention. She looked back at him reluctantly.

"Nah," he said reassuringly. "She won't never be gone. She's watchin over you. Bet she's proud, too."

She could feel tears in her eyes for what felt like the millionth time since that day on the highway and she choked back a sob that threatened to erupt without warning. She wiped away the tears that had escaped down her cheeks with her fingertips and silently cursed herself for not being stronger. "Yeah," she said in a whisper. It was all she could manage to utter.

Silence descended on them again. Daryl didn't know what else to say, and Carol didn't seem to have anything else she wanted to tell him, so they just stared at the fire. After a while Daryl got up, retrieved a few more large sticks for the fire from the pile at the far end of the enclosure, added them to the remaining flames and sat back down beside her.

She watched him as he walked a few paces to where they'd piled extra sticks for the fire, pick out a few large ones, and position them within the existing ones so that their fire would last longer. That little bit of warmth and light made a big difference. It helped to keep the darkness at bay, both literally and within her mind. As he sat back down next to her, she wondered if that was why he was doing it.

They sat against the wall as the night sounds began to make them feel drowsy. He watched her as her eyes began to close even as she sat against the wall. He scooted himself just a bit closer to her, so that their shoulders were touching, and bumped his gently against hers once again.

She felt her eyelids growing heavy, and knew that she couldn't fight off sleep much longer, no matter how much she wanted to. The anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach was just starting to return, when she felt his shoulder bump against hers. She smiled ever so slightly, the anxiety fading just as quickly as it had come. Her eyes drooped and then closed, and laid her head against his shoulder. Maybe this would be one of the few times that she_ wouldn't_ have a nightmare, with him right beside her.

Daryl let his eyes close as well, his head beginning to fall against the top of her head as sleep overtook him.

…

Life had been hard ever since the Turn, but after the relative security of the farm, it had been even harder for the group to readjust to life on the run. It didn't take long, however, before they became very efficient at clearing a house. After the first few weeks, they barely needed to discuss a plan – when they entered a new house, they already knew who had what job. The only variables were the layouts and the number of walkers they did or did not encounter in and around the properties. Slowly, they accumulated a small supply of essentials, still meager enough that they could grab their things at a moment's notice and take it all with them if the need arose, which it sometimes did – but enough that they didn't feel desperate, as they had on the night they'd escaped from the farm with almost nothing.

Today they were holed up in yet another house that was a little too small for the size of their group. But they made the best of it, as they always had. Depending on the situation they found in each house, sometimes they spread out and used the various bedrooms, sometimes they all laid down in the living room, spread between the furniture and the floor. They made it work. After all, it was far better to be indoors than outdoors.

They were waiting for Daryl, Glenn and Rick to come back from a run to a nearby shopping center. Maggie was on watch at the bay window in the living room, which provided the perfect spot to get a view of the entire front side of the house. T-Dog was napping in the back bedroom, since he would be taking a watch shift that night. Lori and Carl were sitting together with a chapter book that they'd found in one of the kids' bedrooms, and Beth was helping Carol in the kitchen as they attempted to pull together something for dinner for the group using what supplies they had scavenged in the nearly empty pantry. Hershel was sitting at the kitchen table keeping the two women company. He'd offered to help them, but they'd assured him that they had things under control.

He smiled as he watched the two together. Beth's own mother was no longer with them, but Carol was a wonderful mother figure for his younger daughter – even more so since they'd been run off the farm by walkers – just as she was with Carl. She seemed different somehow, like she'd left some of the burden of her past behind. Hershel felt that they were truly lucky to have her with them.

Carol and Beth finished serving their combination of canned vegetables and a rarity, Spaghettios, those little canned pasta circles that kids love, and began taking the plates of food to the dining room table. There wan't quite enough room for them all to sit there, but at least they could all eat in the same room. T-Dog joined them just in time for dinner, now up from his nap, and Carol took a plate to Maggie in the front window. The sun was beginning to set, and both women were now getting worried about the three men who hadn't yet made it back.

Carol perched herself at the edge of the window ledge beside Maggie and they sat, holding their plates, but neither of them were eating. They stared out into the darkening street, conscious that the men should have been back hours ago. Something was wrong, one of a million different possibilities, and they could do nothing but sit in the house and wait. It was maddening.

"I'm sure they'll be back any minute," Carol said soothingly to Maggie. The younger girl didn't looked convinced, but smiled back at her weakly.

"Yeah, I'm sure they will," Maggie replied distractedly, her eyes going immediately back to the street, which was now almost completely dark.

Carol stood up, laying a hand on Maggie's shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly before walking back to the kitchen. She wished she actually felt as confident as she pretended to be. There were just too many things that could happen these days, a never ending list of possible reasons why they might not make it back, and the rest of the group would never even know what had happened... _Stop_, she told herself. _You know this isn't helping_.

With a heavy sigh, she set her plate down on the small counter beside the three plates that they had set aside for Rick, Glenn and Daryl. She wasn't going to pretend to eat, there was no point. She'd wait until the guys were back, and she could eat with Daryl.

_Where __**are**__ you? _she thought for the thousandth time.

She was walking back out into the living room when Maggie jumped up with a yelp and ran to the front door. Everyone who was in the room looked up as she threw open the door to reveal Rick and Glenn coming up the stairs, supporting Daryl under his shoulders between them. There were gasps as they came in, and Lori and Carl quickly jumped up from the sofa, making room for Daryl to sit down there. Rick and Glenn released him so that he could take his crossbow off his shoulder and lay it on the floor by the sofa before hobbling over to sit down. He didn't appear to be bleeding anywhere, but he winced as he tried to walk.

"What happened?" Carol gasped. Rick and Glenn dropped the three backpacks filled with supplies on the floor and stepped back, breathing hard. Maggie stood next to Glenn, relief obvious in her face. T-Dog had taken over watch and was stationed in the front window.

"The shopping center was quiet when we got there. We swept it, there weren't more than a few walkers. We took care of them, no problem," Rick said, his breathing slowing down gradually. "We were just about to leave when a herd moved through, and we got cut off from the car. Had to run the other direction and circle back around, but there were too many. We tried to find another car, but we got most of the way back before we found one that worked." Rick stopped to catch his breath again.

Carol sat down next to Daryl on the couch. "Are you okay?" she asked him worriedly.

"Fuckin walker came up behind me, I barely got him in time. He fell towards me and I backed up to avoid him fallin on me, another fuckin one on the ground grabbed me and pulled me down on him. I took care of em, just fucked up my ankle, I think. Hurts like hell." She sighed with relief when she heard that.

"You guys hungry?" Beth asked, suddenly remembering the food they'd set aside in the kitchen.

"Yeah, definitely," Glenn responded quickly. The women smiled, because Glenn _always_ seemed to be hungry.

Carol smiled and stood up, and Maggie followed her. When the two got to the kitchen and Maggie saw the four plates on the counter, she smiled at Carol. "I couldn't eat mine either, not while I was so worried about them getting back," Maggie admitted. Carol smiled back then looked away, blushing, more than slightly embarrassed. The whole group knew that Carol and Daryl cared a lot about each other, even if no one quite knew what was going on between them.

The two brought the four plates into the living room and handed them out to the guys. Carol sat back down next to Daryl with her plate, and he just looked at her and chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothin, 'cept I was just saying to Rick and Glenn that I'd bet y'all didn't even eat because you were waiting for us, gettin all worried." Carol looked across the room and saw that Maggie had retrieved her plate from the window sill where she'd been sitting as well, and that it was also still untouched.

"We were worried about you guys," she told him simply. If Carol didn't know better, she'd have said that Daryl blushed slightly when she said that.

"Pfffttt," he replied, as usual.

After everyone had eaten, the front door was secured and people slowly began to make their way to bed, the backpacks of supplies from the run left untouched until morning. There was one bedroom in the back and two upstairs. Luckily all of them were usable, no dead bodies or other surprises had awaited them there when they'd swept the house.

Carol cleared the dishes from the living room and cleaned them as best she could in the kitchen, her single candle giving off a dim but warm glow. When she was finished she returned to the living room to find Daryl still sitting on the couch. Everyone else had gone to bed except T-Dog, who was still on watch at the front window. She and Daryl seemed to find themselves among the last ones awake pretty often, especially since Carol tried her best not to sleep, until she could fight it no longer.

She set the candle that she'd brought back from the kitchen with the few others sitting on the small table across the room and returned to the spot where she'd been sitting beside him earlier. She'd also brought the first aid kit they'd found somewhere along the way. "Let me take a look at your ankle," she ordered.

" 'S fine," he said stubbornly. She just shook her head at him, and the look on her face told him that she was not going to take no for an answer. She continued to stare at him, holding up her hands and motioning for him to lift up his foot.

"You may be the most stubborn person ever, you know that?" she asked him in frustration.

"Second most stubborn, maybe…" he grumbled, looking at her in mock annoyance as he turned to the side to lift his leg up so that she could examine his injured ankle. She raised her eyebrows at him and grinned, understanding the implication that _she_ was in fact the "most stubborn person ever." She couldn't really argue with that accusation and she knew it. They had that trait in common.

She turned her body and scooted back along the couch so that she could comfortably look at his ankle, which was now in her lap. She gently removed his boot, then his sock, which was, not surprisingly, rather filthy, to reveal a _very_ swollen ankle.

"Yeah, you reallydid a number on this ankle," she told him. "It's pretty swollen." He sat up and craned his neck to get a better look.

"Fuck," he whispered, shaking his head in annoyance.

"I'll be right back," she said, gently lifting his foot so that she could slip out from under it, trying not to hurt him as she put it back down on the couch.

She went into the bathroom and found a washcloth, dipped it into the water that they hadn't boiled, and squeezed it out gently to remove most of the excess water. She returned to the living room and found him still in the same position she'd left him. "Well, it's not gonna work as well as ice, but it's something," she said apologetically. She pulled the pillow from the other end of the sofa and lifted his foot gently, sliding the pillow underneath. She laid the washcloth over his ankle gently and looked back at him. "How's that?"

He frowned slightly, looking around. "I think we need that little table over there," he said pointing to a small wooden table sitting in the far corner of the room. It had been pushed aside when they'd cleared the house. Not sure what he had in mind, she went over to it and discovered that it wasn't heavy. She picked it up and carried it back over, setting it down in front of him. He frowned again, thinking. "Can ya move it back a couple feet?"

She tilted her head slightly, looking at him in confusion, but slid the table away from him, stopping when he nodded. Then she slowly watched him lift his foot off the pillow and start to swivel as he moved his leg from the couch. She shook her head at him, smiling as she realized what his plan was, and picked up the pillow to set it on the table for him. He continued to turn his body slowly, his leg extended, until it was beside the table, then began lifting it. She walked over and gently put her hands under his leg just above his ankle, helping him lift it onto the pillow. Then he relaxed back into the couch cushions, patting the space next to him where she'd been sitting a few minutes before.

Smiling and shaking her head, she sat down next to him again. "Much better," he mumbled, finally smiling slightly.

"After we let it sit with the washcloth on it for a while, I'll wrap it up," she told him. "It would work better with ice, but nothing we can do about that… You need to stay off it and keep it elevated until it stops swelling though." He nodded and grumbled something that sounded like reluctant agreement.

They sat quietly and looked at the few candles positioned in a group on the dining room table, a few feet past the table where Daryl's foot was now elevated.

"Well, it's not as cool as watching a campfire, but having a couch to sit on kinda makes up for it," she said, looking at the candles' glow and leaning back against the soft cushions. After so many days of sitting on the cold, hard ground, sitting on soft furniture was like heaven.

She felt her eyes getting heavy already, but she didn't panic this time. In the past few weeks she'd noticed that if she fell asleep near Daryl, either she didn't have nightmares at all, or if she did, they weren't as bad. Sometimes she even saw herself fighting back in them. Sometimes he was there to save her, though she didn't think she could ever tell him that.

He watched her quickly falling asleep against the couch cushions, and pulled on a thin blanket that he noticed on the other side of him, spreading it over her. She opened her eyes in surprise, smiling when she saw the blanket. "Thanks," she murmured, "but you have to share with me." She reached over to tuck the blanket over him as well, which made him chuckle. Then she leaned back into the cushions, and her eyes almost immediately fell closed again. Daryl smiled in spite of himself, and realized he'd been doing that more and more lately. Then before he had time to think of anything else, he fell asleep as well.


	29. Steady

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead. *sniff* But at least I have fanfic.**

**Author's Note: A HUGE thank you to HarryMakepeace for help on this chapter, and for the best trans-Atlantic text-based gun training I could have asked for. Usually I am lucky enough to get to edit her TWD story, Reboot (if you haven't read it, you should, because it's awesome), but this time she got to check mine, since I know absolutely nothing about guns. So if anyone out there finds mistakes in that part of this chapter, please excuse them. I did my best. Hope you all enjoy it. :)**

**Between season 2 and season 3**

**On the road, Mid-day**

They hadn't been on the road too many more days when it was decided that everyone in the group who didn't already know how to shoot needed to learn. They couldn't afford to have anyone who couldn't defend themselves, or couldn't contribute to defending the group if the need arose. This meant that Beth, Carol, Lori and even Carl – despite Lori's misgivings about it – needed training. For a former pizza delivery boy who had had no need to know about guns before the Turn, Glenn seemed to have become a suspiciously good shot recently, and most people were pretty sure Maggie had had something to do with that.

They'd arranged a makeshift shooting range one day when they were between stops, in an area with multiple clear possible exit paths, just in case. It was stressful, trying to arrange for the gun training that the four of them needed, knowing all too well that the noise could attract walkers. But it had to be done somehow, and they couldn't learn to shoot without practicing, so Rick, Daryl and T-Dog were to be the instructors, while Maggie, Glenn and Hershel kept watch around the perimeter that they'd set up around their shooting range.

Carol had been jumpy and distracted since she'd gotten up that morning. She'd slept badly – more intense nightmares than usual – and had woken up calling Sophia's name, crying hysterically, more than once before she'd given up on sleeping for the night. They'd been staying in a big house that night, and she'd found herself in a bedroom alone, which she hated. The group members generally took turns sleeping in the bedrooms these days, since there were almost never enough beds. She always tried to defer her turns, let the others take the bedrooms. It felt selfish to take up a precious bed when she fought so hard against sleep anyway. Besides, she hated being there alone. At least if she was in the living room there was usually someone else around. As much as she hated waking up the others when she had a nightmare, she hated being in a bedroom alone even more.

She knew that her exhausted and stressed state was not going to blend well with that day's shooting practice. She'd been distracted by thoughts of Sophia all day, even more so than most days, and she just couldn't concentrate. Rick was leading the training, with T-Dog and Daryl assisting him, and today for whatever reason, Rick's voice was just grating on her last nerve. More than anything she just wanted the session over with. Maybe she wasn't cut out to handle a gun, she thought miserably as she missed the target time after time.

Daryl watched her as her frustration grew with each miss. He tried to show her what to do, but each time he felt like he was getting somewhere and that she was beginning to relax, Rick's voice would ring out from a short distance away and he'd see her tense up again. Finally he suggested quietly that she take a break, and she accepted readily.

He pulled her aside gently, guiding her to sit against a tree. It had been a long time since he'd seen her so tense, and he sat down beside her, but with his body turned to face her.

" 'S wrong?" he asked with concern. She was radiating tension. No wonder she'd been missing all the targets. "Ya look exhausted."

She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly in an attempt to calm herself before speaking. She was beyond exhausted and agitated and really wanted to just curl up in a little ball… but she knew that Daryl wasn't going to let her get away with that. For anyone else, she would have insisted that she was fine, but not him. He'd call her bluff without batting an eye. There was no point in pretending.

"I _am_ exhausted. I kept waking up again last night. Don't think I slept more than thirty minutes at a time, max. I'm just not in the mood for this today. I can't concentrate. And Rick's voice… it's just getting on my nerves," she admitted, pulling at individual strands of grass as she stared at the ground in front of her.

"Nightmares again?" he asked softly, pretty sure that the answer would be "yes."

She didn't even look up, just nodded her head and continued to pull at the grass that was unlucky enough to be directly in her sights.

" 'Ts why you always try not ta take the bedrooms, ain't it? Not ta be in there alone?"

He was watching her carefully, trying to will her to look at him, but her chin wasn't budging. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to dispel the memory of the feeling she'd had each and every time she'd woken up that night. She shivered involuntarily, despite the fact that she wasn't cold.

"So was it Sophia or…?" he asked simply. It wasn't often they uttered Ed's name if they could help it. Usually Daryl just called him "the Asshole," or something like that. He didn't have to tell her what "or" he was referring to, it was understood between them.

"Sophia," she sighed sadly, a tear escaping from her eye. She drew her knees up in front of her and wrapped her arms tightly around them, setting her forehead down against her knees.

As it always did, guilt stabbed at him suddenly, and he wished again that he could have found poor Sophia for her, and saved her from all this pain. _This is not about you,_ he quickly reminded himself. He focused instead on the woman in front of him who was quickly retreating back into herself.

He turned so that he was facing her, but simultaneously beside her, leaning down so that his face was close to her level, his shoulder beside hers. "Hey," he whispered softly near her ear, just to remind her that he was there.

Just hearing his voice beside her, she felt herself relax just a little. She leaned toward the sound of it without opening her eyes, her head finding his shoulder. She was still pulled into a tiny ball, and though he felt a little unsure about doing it, he pulled his arms loosely around her. It certainly wasn't something that came naturally to him, but at that moment he didn't care about his own discomfort, only doing something to help her calm down. She had changed so much, had grown so much stronger even in the weeks since they'd left the farm, and he hated to see her slip backwards like this.

They sat that way under the tree for a little while. At one point Daryl saw Rick look over at them from the firing range, a questioning look directed at him, but Daryl just nodded slightly to say that everything was under control. Rick didn't give it another thought. Whatever was wrong with Carol, Daryl was the one who was most likely to be able to fix it, as usual. That much was common knowledge in the group, even if no one could figure out exactly what _was _between them.

Finally Carol stirred, lifting her head reluctantly off Daryl's shoulder and smiling sadly at him. "Sorry, I've probably been drooling all over you there," she joked quietly, looking at his shoulder.

"Pffft," he replied, letting his arms fall and sitting back slightly, glad to see she was feeling better. "That'd be the _cleanest_ thing this poncho's had on it in… I dunno how long," he reassured her. They both chuckled, not doubting that he was right about that. The world sure was a dirty place without indoor plumbing.

She looked wistfully back toward the rest of the group, who appeared to be wrapping up their lesson for the day. "I wish I could focus today. I _need_ to know how to shoot, I know I do. Rick's voice was just like nails on a chalkboard in my head today." She couldn't even explain why. He'd never bothered her that much before.

"We could try again once they call it a day," he suggested. "Looks like they're windin down." They looked back over at the firing range, where Rick and T-Dog were giving the impression of being pleased overall with the progress of their students. They all looked relatively happy with the day's lesson. Daryl looked back at her. "Whada'ya say? One more try?" Then added, "No Rick or any of the rest of them, just you and me."

She exhaled slowly, nervous at the idea of trying again when she had already felt like quite the spectacular failure at shooting today, but decided that if anyone could help her get it right, it would be Daryl. "Okay," she said, nodding her head in an attempt to convince herself that she could do it. He smiled at her reassuringly.

He pushed himself off the ground and swung his crossbow over his shoulder, then reached down to offer her his hand. She let herself be pulled to her feet wearily, meeting his eyes as she came back to her full height, and he swore he saw the spark that was usually there flare quickly, then settle down to the sparkle that he had grown accustomed to seeing there.

They walked back over to join the others, who were just handing their weapons back to Rick, ready to call this practice session over. Rick looked concerned as they rejoined them. "You alright, Carol?" he asked. She could see that he was genuinely concerned.

She pushed her mouth into a smile and nodded. "Just really tired today, and I was getting frustrated with myself, which made it worse, so it seemed better not to waste the ammo."

Rick nodded understandingly. "It's not an easy thing to learn," he said. "But I know you'll get it."

"We're gonna give it another shot," Daryl said. "Y'all go on back up to the camp, we'll be up there when we're done." _The camp_ was probably a generous way to describe the area where they'd built a campfire earlier. They weren't planning on staying there that night, especially not after they'd been shooting off all those rounds, possibly drawing walkers from who knew how far away, but they didn't have too far to go before nightfall and they could afford another hour or so.

Rick nodded. "Alright. I want Maggie and Glenn to stay here and keep watch for you, though." Maggie and Glenn, who were standing nearby, nodded their agreement. It was common knowledge that the two never minded watch duty when they were asked to take a shift together. Daryl and Carol both nodded as well.

Rick handed the bag of guns and the ammo that they'd been using for their practice over to Daryl. "We should leave in an hour or two," he reminded them.

"Plenty of time," Daryl replied. "We'll see y'all up there soon." They watched as Rick led Carl, Lori, Beth, Hershel and T-Dog back to the day's "camp."

Maggie and Glenn looked slightly sheepish, as though there was something they wanted very badly _not _to talk about. "We're just gonna be over there, there's a good vantage point we found, where we can see most of this area," Glenn said, pointing towards a ridge slightly hidden by trees. "Holler if you need anything."

"A'ight," Daryl said, nodding. The two scampered away, and Daryl and Carol looked at each other, shaking their heads. Carol burst out laughing.

"Somehow I don't think they're gonna be much good for keeping watch," she ventured.

"Like goddamn teenagers er something," Daryl grumbled, looking in the direction in which the two had disappeared and shaking his head again. This just amused Carol more.

He turned back to look at her, almost smirking, returning to the reason they were there. "Ya ready ta get started?" he asked. _She don't look nervous or tense anymore, that's a good start_, he thought.

She nodded, smiling the most genuine smile he'd seen on her face all day. "Yes. Ready," she replied, the familiar glint back in her eyes. She felt like the earlier failure hadn't ever happened. _I can do this,_ she told herself. This was exactly the effect that Daryl usually had on her.

"Okay, let's start at the beginning. The first thing ya gotta think about is how yer standin. 'S the most important, cause ya can't line up with yer target otherwise," he told her. She nodded seriously, paying attention as he talked. He didn't usually like people watching him so closely, but when she did it, it didn't bother him. Hell, he almost liked it. He walked over to stand beside her, facing the makeshift targets that the others had been using. They'd lined up whatever they could find along the narrow boards of a wooden fence, mostly things like old soda cans. Most of their targets now littered the ground around the fence, but it didn't matter. They weren't ready to shoot yet anyway.

He stood beside her, shoulder to shoulder, demonstrating the stance: his feet about one step apart, parallel to each other. She imitated the way he was standing, and he nodded at her. "Good," he mumbled. He touched the middle of her back ever so slightly with his fingertips, and said "Gotta make sure you keep your back straight, too." She wasn't sure if she straightened up as tall as should could because she was following his directions or because of the sudden warmth that she could swear spread through her body when his hand connected with her back. It caught her off guard, but she tried not to let it register on her face. She had to admit, she liked it.

"The trick is," he mumbled, moving his hand away, "ya gotta stay calm if ya wanna be able ta aim right. Gotta hold _perfectly_ still." She tried to demonstrate holding perfectly still, glancing at him out of the corners of her eyes to see him watching her intently. She couldn't help but grin.

"I feel silly just standing here like this," she whispered. _Why am I whispering? _she wondered. _He said stand still, not be quiet._

"Yer doin pretty good," he replied, nodding approvingly. "Keep that back straight," he reminded her, finding the same spot on her back that he had before.

If anyone had been watching them, they would have thought that he was intentionally flirting with her, and that she was purposely relaxing her back to get him to put his hand there again. However, they would've been wrong. First of all, Daryl Dixon did _not_ know how to flirt. Of all the skills he had to offer, flirting or any other socially related skills were not among them. And while it have seemed that Carol would have been more distracted with Daryl's hard on her back, that was exactly the opposite of the truth. Somehow Daryl had a calming effect on her, he always had. The closer he was, the calmer she became. She didn't understand it herself, but she remembered trying to use it to her advantage back when he'd been out looking for Sophia, and couldn't be there to sit on the guardrail with her. She remembered trying to imagine that he was there next to her just to summon up the soothing feeling she felt when he actually _was_ beside her.

Daryl's approach seemed to Carol to be the direct opposite of Rick's. Where Rick's voice had grated on her nerves with every word, Daryl's voice did exactly what it usually did for her – gave her confidence, and made her feel calm and safe. When he was satisfied that she was standing correctly, and after making sure that the safety was on, he gave her one of the guns, just to hold. He told her to relax and stand normally while holding it, so that she could get used to the weight in her hand. "Just hold it for a while. Don't worry about how yer standin, just keep holdin it, so ya get used to it," he told her. That seemed easy enough to her. He tried to distract her from thinking about the fact that she was holding it by changing the subject completely.

"Ya hungry?" he asked, knowing that neither of them had eaten in hours, and that if she said that she wasn't, she'd be lying. He retrieved 2 apples from the bag that he'd carried up from the camp earlier that day. Her eyes grew wide in surprise. Fresh fruit was a very rare commodity these days, since they couldn't stay anywhere long enough to grow any themselves. He thought of tossing one to her, but decided that it probably wasn't wise to throw it at her when she was holding a gun, even with the safety on. He walked over and handed it to her instead.

"Where'd you get them?" she asked, looking at the apple in her hand almost reverently. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had an apple. _How quickly things can change, _she thought, realizing that she had never once been as astounded by a piece of fruit in her entire life.

"Oh, ya know… a tree," he replied with a smirk. She laughed, shaking her head, and would have thrown her apple at him if it had not been such a precious commodity. She did as instructed, and kept the gun in her right hand while holding her apple in her left. When they finished eating, which didn't take long, she threw the core as far as she could toward the targets – not bad for a left handed throw – and he proceeded to throw his, also with his left hand, almost twice as far.

"Pfft," she said, imitating him and pretending to sulk. "Show off."

"Alright, back to work," he replied. She stood straight and ran through what she had learned so far, trying to recreate the stance she had stood in earlier. _Feet apart. Back straight. Calm and still._ She took deep breaths, trying to be as still as possible.

He watched her getting ready, and could tell that she was running through the steps in her head. "Ya look ready," he told her. "How d'ya feel?"

"Ready," she confirmed.

"Alright, c'mon," Daryl said, and began jogging towards the targets. She followed slightly behind him, confused at first, but quickly realized what they were going to do. They jogged over to the fence and found that most of the objects that had been used as targets, while they had some holes in them, were still usable. They set them all back up on the fence, then jogged back to where they had started. "A'ight, get yourself ready again," he told her.

She inhaled deeply and went through the steps in her mind again. _Feet apart. Back straight. Calm and still_. She glanced up at him for his approval. He nodded at her, and she smiled. "What's next?" she asked.

"Now you're ready to aim," he said seriously. "What ya wanna hit first?"

She examined her choices. It didn't really matter. "The Coke can," she replied.

"A'ight, so, how ya feelin with the gun? More comfortable?" he asked.

She looked down in surprise at the hand holding the gun. She chuckled, and said "I'd forgotten that I was holding it."

"Good," he said. "So now let's work on aimin at the target." She raised the gun hesitantly, holding it out in front of her, not really sure what she was trying to do. "OK, just like ya gotta be standin calm and still, ya gotta hold ya arms that way too, and ya gotta get the target in yer sight. Lemme show ya," he walked around and stood behind her, bringing his face level with hers, so that their cheeks were almost touching, raising his arms on either side of hers. It if had been anyone else, it would have been more than just a little bit uncomfortable, even awkward. But it was Daryl, and she felt herself relax, even if she _did_ suddenly feel just a little flushed… She had to remind herself not to relax against him. She glanced over at him out of the corner of her eye, which barely required any movement whatsoever since their faces were so close together. He saw the tiny movement and glanced back at her at the same time. "Focus, woman," he said in his deep gravely rumble. Carol smiled and flicked her eyes back to the gun in front of her. _This was definitely better than practicing with Rick._

"So the next thing to remember is to keep your arms steady." He dropped his arms slightly so that he could grip her forearms gently. He felt them trembling slightly. "Focus on yer arms. Ya can't aim right if they're movin all over the place." She took a deep breath and tried to steady her arms. Daryl could feel a difference almost immediately. "Better, ya got it," he told her, releasing his grip on her forearms and moving his hands to her hands, which were holding the gun. There was something reassuring about the pressure of his hands over hers, helping her to steady the gun. "So ya got yer arms steady, now ya gotta get the target in the sight, line it up so ya see the Coke can right through there."

Carol looked and saw the Coke can between the sight lines. She smiled, feeling like she might get the hang of this after all. Being around Daryl always had that effect on her, made her feel like whatever it was, she could do it. Like she wasn't so worthless after all.

"Now before ya can take the shot, ya gotta release the safety, like this," he said, showing her the release level lever. "One last thing ta remember," he said, "is ya gotta take a deep breath, steady yourself one last time, then hold yer breath in 'til ya pull the trigger." She was fairly sure that if she had thought about it, that last piece of advice was some sort of metaphor for her life.

Before he removed his hands from around hers, he checked that she had the gun lined up steadily, then released his grip around her hands and put them back around her forearms, checking to be sure they were steady. Working through the lesson backwards, he then put his arms down and took a small step to one side, placing his fingertips on the spot on her back where he'd started, before withdrawing them and looking down at her feet.

It was as though as he'd stood there so close to her, he'd been radiating not only warmth, the loss of which she noticed as soon as he stepped away from her, but something else that she'd absorbed as well, something unfamiliar to her – confidence. It was as though during those few minutes she'd been somehow infused with it.

Then he took a step back and looked at her stance. "Now clear your mind, just think 'bout whether ya doing all the things we talked about." She tried to think about everything they'd gone over. _Feet apart. Back straight. Calm and still_. _Arms steady. Target in the sight. Safety off._ _Deep breath and hold it in._

"I think so," she said, eager to see if she could hit the target.

"A'ight then, give it a try," he said encouragingly. " 'T's gonna kick back a bit when ya fire, just hold it steady, best ya can." He took another small step backwards so he could get a better look at how she was standing when she fired. She looked to him like someone who'd already had some practice.

She mentally went through all the steps once again in her head, remembering the sensation of warmth and calm that had spread through her when he'd touched her back, when he'd stood behind her. She took a deep breath and held it, feeling perfectly still and calmer than she could remember feeling in a very long time. She squeezed the trigger slowly, then suddenly felt the vibration run through her body, heard the shot ring in her ears. She looked at Daryl shyly before looking back at the target. He was grinning broadly, looking toward the fence. She was afraid to look, but simultaneously dying of curiosity. "How'd I do?" she asked, bracing for bad news.

"Guess you just needed someone with a different approach," he said slowly, looking at her, then motioning with his head to the target. She followed his gaze to the fence, where the Coke can was now laying on the ground.

"Did I hit it?" she asked in surprise, a smile creeping across her face.

"Straight through the middle," he told her. "C'mon, lemme see ya do it again." She blushed proudly, disbelief reflected on her face.

She started to get herself ready for another shot, then suddenly she stopped, lowered the gun and turned to face him. "Thank you Daryl," she said earnestly. "Actually, I don't think I can ever thank you enough for this."

"Pffft," he mumbled, "_Stop_. 'T's not a big deal."

She shook her head slowly. "It's a _very_ big deal to me," she told him. "I never thought I'd be able to do it. I'll actually be useful to the group if I can shoot."

"Pffft. You? Not useful? _Stop_." He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Ya gonna go again?" he asked in mock impatience, changing the subject. She smiled, knowing exactly what it was like to not be able to take a compliment.

"Absolutely," she said, her face now filled with determination, almost excitement, as she got back into position.

This was the beginning of a new Carol Peletier.


	30. Cozy

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but writing my version of it is almost as good… just, ya know, without the huge financial compensation. :)**

**Between season 2 and season 3**

**A Hunting Lodge in the Woods, Night**

It was raining, a cold rain that made the temperature, which was uncomfortable to begin with, feel even colder, with a blustery wind to go along with it. The daytime temperatures across Georgia varied widely, from frosty to spring-like, but at night it could feel more like the cold you'd expect to feel in winter, even if snow was rare in this part of the country. Cold rain was certainly not unheard of.

Luckily, they'd managed to find and clear a large house. It resembled some sort of hunting lodge, built out of logs, set on a large property in the middle of nowhere. It seemed to have been mostly untouched since the Turn, so there were more supplies inside that the group had found in any one place for most of the winter. In other words, it was almost perfect.

Dinner had already been cleared away some time ago, and Daryl was sitting on the front porch, on watch. He didn't mind the rain so much, except that it made the cold feel that much colder. There was a small covered porch area, but even the roof wasn't doing much to keep the rain from reaching him, so he'd given up on trying. He hadn't been out there long, and already the dampness felt like it was seeping into his bones. What he wouldn't have given for hot coffee, hell, hot _anything_ right about then.

He heard the door creak open behind him, familiar footsteps, and then the door creaked closed again. He couldn't help but smile in spite of the cold and his foul mood. She came and sat beside him on the top step.

"Look what I found," she said proudly, holding up two thick wool blankets and an umbrella. He couldn't help but be amazed that once again, she had been so thoughtful. He was sure that the others were all inside asleep by now, but she'd been inside going through closets to find something for _him._

"Thanks," he replied, noticing how happy she looked when she handed him one of the blankets, wrapping the other around herself tightly. They were relatively big blankets, but even on her small frame, they didn't quite reach their legs. Once he had the blanket wrapped around himself, she handed him the umbrella as well. They were technically under the edge of the roof, but a little extra protection from the wind and rain was definitely welcome. "C'mere," he grumbled, putting the umbrella up and holding it over the two of them. "Ya sure ya wanna be out here in this weather? 'S freezin."

"Oh, I don't mind," she told him, as if sitting outside in the freezing cold was something she did every day for fun. "You know me."

"Yeah, I know you," he said. "I know you don't wanna sleep, and everyone else inside has gone to bed. 'N I know you musta cleaned everything in that place by yerself cause ya never ask anyone to help ya. 'N now yer gonna sit out here 'n freeze with me… but the reason why you'd wanna do that's the _only_ part I don't know."

She grinned, shaking her head slowly and staring off into the dark. "You don't know me at all, Daryl Dixon."

"Yeah, you just keep tellin yerself that," he replied softly. He could feel her shivering beside him, and realized that there was a more efficient way for them to stay warm, one that the Daryl from before the Turn would have died of hypothermia before suggesting. Hell, he wasn't sure if he'd have offered it to anyone besides Carol now. But for her? Without a second thought.

He closed the umbrella, put it to the side and started peeling the blanket off of his shoulders. She looked at him, confused, as he draped the blanket over both their laps, then smiled in understanding as he pulled it as snugly as he could to try to cover both their laps completely. She scooted a little closer so that the blanket could come closer to getting all the way across, then took her blanket off of her left shoulder, pushing the end of it as far as she could around to his left shoulder. He scooted closer to her, easing his right arm around her back just a little awkwardly under the blanket. He knew she'd say something about this arrangement, it was only a matter of seconds now.

"Cozy," was all she said, in a teasing but not unhappy tone.

"_STOP," _he replied, as usual, " 'S warmer this way." It's not as though they hadn't shared a blanket before, but as _cozy_ as it did feel, being this close always made him a little nervous, even with her. He knew she only teased him to get a reaction though, and he knew that if he'd _really_ minded, she wouldn't have done it. Her teasing was never malicious, she just liked to see him blush. She was definitely the only one who could get away with that. Most people would've been afraid to _try _for fear of being shot with a crossbow, and rightly so_._

"It's true," she said thoughtfully, "body heat and all that." She not only felt warmer, but safer, and perfectly content. Forget about the rain, the cold, the dark, the loss of her daughter, being on the run, nightmares, her abusive dead husband or even the flesh eating monsters that they would probably run from for the rest of their lives. None of it mattered at that moment, as incredible as that seemed.

Suddenly there was a rustling sound in the bushes off to the right side of the porch, near the corner of the front wall. They both sat bolt upright, ripped the blankets off of them and jumped up. Carol backed up from the steps, while Daryl had grabbed his crossbow and held it ready, advancing slowly towards the darkness. Carol grabbed the lantern that they'd had sitting on the porch, walking slowly on the porch in the direction of the noise to help illuminate the source for Daryl. For several seconds they heard nothing but the creaking of the wood beneath her feet. Daryl walked forward silently, even with Carol but on the ground below. This porch wasn't raised as high as the one at the farmhouse had been. She wasn't thinking about the fact that she was walking towards danger that she could be vulnerable to, only that she wanted Daryl to be able to see what he was dealing with. Looking back afterwards, it hadn't been the smartest thing she'd ever done, and she certainly shouldn't have been that close to the edge of the porch when she didn't have a weapon of any kind. Not one that would do any good against walkers, anyway.

Almost without warning, four walkers came out of the bushes towards them. Three of them lurched towards Daryl and one of them reached over the railing and nearly snagged her as she staggered backwards in surprise, letting out a shriek. It managed to snag the bottom of her sweater, ripping a hole in it, but she threw herself backwards with enough force that the walker's claws couldn't hold the cloth of her sweater. She fell against the outer wall of the lodge with a loud thud, the lantern crashing to the floor. The candle inside went out, but it didn't break. Thankfully it had been made to withstand at least that much force.

She lost her balance as she tripped backwards against the wall, hitting her head as she fell and landing painfully on her left arm. She looked up to see Daryl had already shot arrows through two of the four walkers' heads. He pushed the third one back with a swift kick, and it collided with the fourth one, who was behind it. They stood there trying to regain their balance for a minute, and Daryl took advantage of this time, shooting arrows through both of their skulls as well.

Rick and Glenn burst through the front door just in time to see Daryl finish off the last two walkers. They ran down the steps, looking from side to side quickly to see if there were any other threats. "You alright?" they asked, looking from Carol to Daryl. More people, obviously still half asleep, appeared at the doorway. T-Dog saw Carol on the ground and knelt down to help her up. Even with his help, she had trouble getting to her feet. She felt as though she'd been hit by a car, or at least what she imagined that would feel like. After T-Dog helped her up, she turned to look for Daryl, who appeared unharmed, and saw that he, along with Rick and Glenn, were slowly fanning out across the grass in front of the lodge.

"We need to check around the other sides of the building, at least. We should wait to check the perimeter until the sun comes up. Don't wanna be wandering the woods in the dark," Rick said. The other two agreed.

Daryl said something quietly to Rick that the group on the porch couldn't hear, then strode back up to the porch. He walked up the steps, stopping in front of Carol, who was leaning against T-Dog for support. "Y'alright?" he asked, looking at her with concern. "That walker didn't get ya anywhere?" She shook her head, touched at his concern. She held up the bottom of her thin sweater, showing him the hole it had made.

"That's it, just that hole," she said quietly. Daryl's eyes went wide when he saw evidence that the walker had been that close to her.

"Ya sure?" he asked anxiously. He eyed her midsection, where the hole in her sweater fell, not able to be sure that it hadn't scratched her skin without seeing the proof.

She wasn't thrilled about exposing _any_ of her skin that wasn't normally exposed, but since she knew that her closest scar was at least a few inches from that area, and since she also know that Daryl was _not_ going to be convinced that she hadn't been scratched until he saw proof, she gently tugged the ends of her sweater and the shirt underneath to reveal bare, unscratched skin under the hole in her sweater for about a second before letting the cloth fall back over it. Daryl appeared to relax a little, but still looked at her with concern.

She knew that Rick and Glenn needed him to walk around the building with them, but that he hesitated to leave her there, so she tried to reassure him. "When he grabbed at me I jumped back, hard, tripped and hit the wall, then fell down, banged my head and landed on my arm. But _I'm okay_," she assured him. "I've been hurt worse," she added without thinking, and saw anger flash behind his eyes for a second. She tried to focus him on what he needed to do. "Now, if you guys are going out to check around, _go_. Just… be careful." She whispered the last part, concern now on _her_ face.

"Yup," he grumbled, as he turned back toward Rick and Glenn. The two men turned on flashlights, which lost some of their effectiveness in the rain, and Daryl had his crossbow ready as they advanced slowly into the darkness around the side of the lodge. The others who'd been in the doorway moved inside to allow Carol and T-Dog back in. The two of them moved towards the couch in what must have long ago been a reception area near a large front desk, where T-Dog gently helped lower her down to sit. She thanked him profusely, not at all used to being the center of attention and not particularly comfortable with it. Lori brought her some painkillers that they'd found in a room that had a great deal of medical equipment. They even found a few of those cold packs that were designed to sit in the freezer and then feel like ice on aches and pains. They weren't ready for use yet, but Maggie set them outside the front door, thinking they might be usable a little later if they got cold enough.

The couch was wide, with thick, soft cushions in some sort of dark plaid pattern – it was hard to tell the colors in the dim light. Hershel gave her a quick check up and declared that nothing was broken, just ordered her to rest and take it easy. T-Dog helped her turn so that she was laying down on the couch, per Hershel's orders, and even brought her one of the thick wool blankets that she'd found earlier, though she had no intention of sleeping while the guys were still out checking around the building. None of them were planning to sleep until they got back. There was another sofa across from the one Carol was on, and several matching large chairs completing the square sitting area, and everyone gathered there. They attempted to make conversation, though they were exhausted and concerned. Mostly they just stared at the closed door.

Carol had taken some of the painkillers and now that the adrenaline from the walker attack had drained out of her, she was having trouble staying awake. She looked around at the familiar faces – faces that had become her family – and took a few deep breaths. She didn't want to sleep, but her body was exhausted. Beth noticed the worry on Carol's face from where she sat curled up on the chair closest to her, and she smiled reassuringly. "They'll be back soon," she said softly. Carol just nodded, exhausted. Before she could stop them, her eyes began to close.

The rest of the group was sitting in various states of semi-consciousness when Rick, Daryl and Glenn reappeared at the door about 25 minutes later, soaking wet and looking like they'd found a few more walkers outside – there were a few signs of "remains" on their clothing, despite the rainshower they'd been stuck in. They said that they'd gone halfway around the building before finding any more walkers, but back on that side they'd found about six of them that seemed to have wandered out of the grove of trees not far behind the lodge. From the way they were dressed, they could have been hunters themselves, once upon a time. The three men had taken care of them without too much trouble, and once they'd been sure that there weren't any more walkers wandering in from that direction – which was a tricky thing to do in the dark - they'd gotten the rest of the way around the building without encountering any more. They'd decided to circle the building one more time, to be safe, and hadn't seen anything else. Glenn had the next watch shift, and Maggie volunteered to stay with him, in case he needed backup. The others wandered back to the rooms where they'd been sleeping. They'd cleared the whole lodge earlier, and there were more than enough rooms for everyone.

Carol, miraculously, had slept through the return of the men, so she woke with a start when Daryl shook her gently. He hated to wake her, knowing that she needed the sleep, but he was determined that she was going to sleep in a bed, even if he had to sit there next to her and make sure of it. There were plenty of beds this time, no excuses.

"You're back," she said, smiling sleepily up at him, starting to sit up.

"C'mon," he mumbled, leaning down to talk to her, "gonna find ya a bed." He saw the anxiety immediately fill her face. He shook his head. "Ssshhh, c'mon, 't's gonna be fine. Promise." She looked into his eyes, and she wanted to believe him… but how could he know that? He leaned down and put his arm around her waist, gently pulling her up to stand, trying to avoid the sore spots of her, which was difficult, since there were so many. "Y'alright?" he asked before they started walking. "Aw, shit, I'm gettin yer clothes soakin wet."

Her head was spinning a little, but she'd certainly been through worse with less help, so she just nodded slowly and whispered "Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about the water." They started walking slowly towards a long hallway where there were many doors, which sort of reminded her of the long hallway of the rooms they'd slept in at the CDC – except that they thankfully weren't underground, and the hallway was wider. Most of the doors were open, a few of them closed where people were already sleeping. Daryl peered into the rooms as they passed, finding what he was looking for – a room with two beds. No need to make things more awkward than necessary, no matter how much they liked each other. He steered her carefully through the doorway, flashing the flashlight to illuminate the room. Moonlight shone in from the window where the curtains had been left open. It might not be good for privacy, but it did help when electricity was not an option.

He eased her down on the bed closest to the door, just as Beth appeared in the doorway with Carol's bag. She smiled at the two of them as she brought in it, handing it to Carol.

"Thanks, Beth," Carol whispered to the girl.

"No problem, good night," Beth said softly as she left the room.

" 'M not gonna leave ya in here alone fer the night, but I'll wait in the hall 'f ya wanna change, er, whatever…" he said nervously.

"Such a gentleman," she smiled at him. He stood up and walked towards the door, pausing before going through it. "Just holler," he told her, leaving the door slightly ajar as he went out to stand in the hall.

With some difficulty, she changed out of what she'd been wearing into some slightly less dirty clothes from the bottom of her bag. It took her a while, as slowly as she was moving, and she imagined that Daryl was wondering if she'd forgotten him. She finally finished changing, even managed to hobble to the bathroom slowly to splash some water on her face from her water bottle and brush her teeth. Since the bathroom door was so close to the door to the hallway, she walked the rest of way there and pulled it open slowly. She found Daryl sitting on the floor against the wall, head leaning down against his knees, looking suspiciously like he was sleeping.

"Sorry, Daryl," she whispered. "You must be freezing in those wet clothes." His head snapped up in surprise.

"What're you doin over here? Ya didn't have to walk so far on yer own," he said as he got up. He looked at her with concern yet again.

"I'm fine, Daryl, really," she replied. "Come on back in, if you want to."

"Fine, my ass," he mumbled, putting his arm back around her waist to support her and then closing the door behind them with his other hand. He walked her back over to the bed, pulling back the blanket before releasing his arm from around her waist. She sat down carefully, very slowly lowering herself down to lay on the pillow. She was obviously still in pain.

"I will never understand how I took pillows for granted all my life," she sighed as she leaned back on hers, pulling the blanket over herself with her good arm. She glanced at him, standing in the middle of the room holding his bag. "I promise not to peek, go ahead and change," she said, covering her eyes.

"Pfft," he replied, walking to the far side of the room and quickly changing into a somewhat clean plain t-shirt and pair of pants, laying his angel wing vest on a chair and dropping the rest of his clothes nearby on the floor. When she heard the springs creak as he got into the other bed she looked over at him.

He couldn't help but think that she looked so tired, more so than usual. "Y'sure yer alright?" he asked again.

"Of course I am," she replied quietly, "haven't I got the best guardian angel a girl could ask for?"

"Pfft," Daryl grumbled under his breath, but he smiled while doing it. "Ya need anythin, just say so. Don't go tryin ta go get it yerself," her warned her sternly.

"Alright, alright," she conceded. She lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. "I think just maybe I need some more training in dealing with walkers. What do ya say?"

"We can start soon as you heal up from this lil encounter." He figured she was right, and she probably wasn't the only one who needed some training on killing walkers with something besides a gun.

She smiled in the darkness. "Good night, Daryl."

" 'Night."

**Author's Note: It strikes me a little crazy that I'm on chapter 30 and just realized it's the first time I wrote about an encounter with the walkers... of course, the scenes from the actual show generally take care of that for me, but still, it seems funny. Wow, 30 chapters and we haven't even gotten to season 3 yet... thanks everyone for hanging in there with me so far. I appreciate all the reviews, favs and follows. Even *I'm* excited to see what happens in the next chapter... :)**


	31. Nightmare

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… I just settle for thinking about it more than is probably normal. **

**Between season 2 and season 3**

**A Hunting Lodge in the Woods, Night**

Daryl'd been expecting it, but that didn't change the fact that when her scream pierced the air a few hours later, he was momentarily thrown into a panic. He sat up bolt straight in bed, instantly awake and aware that the scream had come from Carol in the bed only a few feet away. In seconds he had glanced around, double checking that there was no actual threat in the room. No, they were physically safe. The demons were all in her mind.

He jumped out of bed and before he knew it he was at the edge of hers. There was no time to feel awkward, he sat down beside her without a second thought about what did or didn't make him uncomfortable. She was lying on her side, facing away from him, thrashing, whimpering, and in between, screaming Sophia's name. Tears were pouring down her cheeks. He put his hand slowly, gently on her shoulder, and shook her ever so slightly, knowing that that was her sore arm. She continued to struggle against whatever was happening to her in her mind, now also struggling against his touch. He bent down closer to her, his face near her ear. "Carol, wake up," he said gently.

She stirred a little, but her dream seemed not to want to release its hold on her. "Carol, it's a dream. Wake up," he repeated softly but firmly. She was still for about two seconds before he felt her stiffen under his hand and then flop back down onto her back, immediately wincing from the sudden movement and the left over soreness in her back from the night before. Her eyes flew open and she was breathing hard, as if she couldn't catch her breath. She looked up at him, and he saw relief flood her eyes. "It was just a dream," he said, his gravely tone soothingly familiar to her.

She rubbed her tear stained face with her hands with a sigh. "Sorry," she mumbled, realizing that she had woken him up, and that he was now sitting perched on the very edge of "her" double bed. She scooted back from him towards the other side, giving him more room to sit without feeling crowded, and patting the space where she had been, silently asking him to stay nearby. She knew him well enough that she suspected that he was probably about to back away if she didn't. It would have been classic Daryl. But he surprised her, shifting himself further onto the bed, away from the edge, so that he was sitting cross-legged beside her. She was laying on her back, still trying to catch her breath, and Daryl was still trying to figure out exactly what he could do for her when she reached over and took his left hand in her right, squeezing it slightly.

"Sophia?" he asked gently. She just nodded. "Same dream as usual?" She nodded again, and this time it was him squeezing her hand. "You wanna talk about it?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "No," she whispered. She looked so sad just then, it was almost too much for him.

"Hey, that's fine," he said softly. He tried to figure out what else to say that would comfort her, realizing sadly that there wasn't anything that would make this better. She nodded slowly, and when she opened her eyes again the sadness in them was mixed with gratitude. He looked away from her, down at the blankets, uncomfortable with the emotion he saw in her eyes and once again suppressing a feeling of guilt that he had not found Sophia, hadn't spared Carol this endless pain. Dealing with emotions was still hard for him. They sat that way for a few minutes.

"Ya don't wanna hear it, I know, but ya need to get some more sleep," he finally told her, looking back up to see panic in her eyes momentarily. Still, it was the truth, she needed to sleep. " 'S the best way for ya to heal up. Cause if ya wanna learn how to fight walkers, then ya gotta be a hundred percent first."

"I know, but…" she started, gripping his hand tighter. Her face was suddenly anxious again.

"Relax, okay?" he said soothingly, moving to lay down on his right side, facing her, without letting go of her hand. His head was on the pillow that she'd been laying on a minute before, and he could feel the warmth from where her head had been. She turned to look at him, surprise evident on her face. _He was going to lie down next to her? Was she __**sure**__ she was awake?_

Her surprise didn't go unnoticed, and he saw an opportunity to tease _her_ for a change. "Unless," his tone was joking now, "ya know, ya want me to go… back over there?" She shook her head, smiling slightly, embarrassed to admit it. "A'ight then, since you don't wanna sleep, don't go to sleep, just lay there. Whatever ya do, stay awake." She rolled her eyes at him. She'd said that to Sophia more than once herself. "But _I'm_ gonna go back to sleep," he said, closing his eyes. He knew she was exhausted, and hoped that she'd go back to sleep despite the fact that he knew she didn't want to take the chance of having another one of her dreams. He hoped that by staying close to her, he would help her get some sleep.

They were about a foot apart, maybe a little more, their fingers still laced together, his left hand with her right, their hands resting part-way between them.

"Daryl," she said softly, and his eyes popped open again.

"Yeah?"

"You're gonna freeze," she told him matter-of-factly, "Get under the blanket." It was less of a suggestion, almost an order. He blushed, instantly looking uncomfortable. Yes, they'd been under the same blankets when they'd been outside just a little while ago, as well as other times on other days, and they'd been sitting much closer together then… but something about the fact that they were also laying on a bed made this situation feel much different, _much_ more awkward, to him. She rolled her eyes at him again, then said teasingly "If you're worried, I promise to stay on my side." He glanced at her and saw that she was grinning. She couldn't help it. Big, tough Daryl Dixon blushing was just too darn cute, and she always seemed to know how to get that reaction out of him.

"Pffft… _STOP," _he grunted. He let go of her hand long enough to get under the covers, then, when he had settled himself, he found it again exactly where he'd left it. He felt simultaneously _intensely_ uncomfortable while also completely relaxed. Being this close to her seemed to have that effect on him, and he didn't begin to understand it. He pushed the confusion out of his mind and just laid there.

"You can take your hand back if you want," she said, figuring that he probably did. She felt silly, like a teenager, and yet… she liked it.

" 'F it's gonna make ya feel better, it's fine."

She blinked in surprise. "You _sure?"_

"Yup."

She watched him as he settled himself under the covers. He looked flustered, and yet… he was still there. She was surprised that he hadn't gone back to the other bed, and she _really_ hadn't been sure that he would get under the blankets, despite what logical sense it made. It was a cold night. There was no heat. But this was Daryl, and she knew that despite how much he cared – and no matter how much she _didn't_ understand about what they were to each other, she knew that he did care – it was hard for him. When emotions were involved, he was still getting the hang of things. His first reaction was always to back away, and by now she was used to that.

She was laying on her back, frowning up at the ceiling and concentrating on forgetting the images from her dream. She could feel him watching her, and she turned her head to the side and looked at him. He'd been so tense a few minutes before, and yet somehow now the tension was gone, and he was watching her with only concern in his eyes. He didn't say anything, just squeezed her hand gently. The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. She watched as his eyelids grew heavy, and soon he had fallen back to sleep.

She didn't expect to sleep for the rest of the night, even hoped that she wouldn't. She wasn't ready to face the nightmares again for the second time in one night. However, the sound of Daryl's breathing beside her seemed to lull her into semi-consciousness, and despite her best efforts, she too fell back to sleep. Her last thought before she did was to wonder at how safe she felt every time she fell asleep beside him – usually by a campfire – and how her nightmares had been kept, so far at least, at bay merely by his close proximity.

…

A week later, Carol had healed up nicely. They hadn't seen any more walkers since the night of the episode outside the lodge, but they weren't foolish enough to think that they were safe. It was always just a matter of time. The group had enjoyed the chance to rest, to recover, to sleep in beds again for a change, but they knew that they couldn't stay at the lodge much longer. There was no way to secure the whole property, and they knew that they'd have to move on very soon.

Carol and Daryl's encounter with the walkers had been a wake-up call to the rest of the group as well. Of course, they'd been facing the threat of walkers for a long time now, but just as they had realized recently that the whole group needed to have gun training, they now understood that they needed to be trained to kill walkers with quieter weapons as well. Not only was the supply of ammunition limited, unlike the amount of walkers that they could encounter, but many times the noise from guns only made the problem worse, as it drew more walkers to them. So for the past few days the others had started training. This type of training worked better one on one, so those who were already comfortable killing walkers with knives, mainly Rick and Daryl, were training the others separately whenever there was time.

Today was to be Carol's first attempt at this knife training, and it had gone without saying that Daryl would be the one to teach her. They were outside in the yard not far from the lodge, within view of the spot where they had encountered the real walkers only the week before. The sun was shining, though the air was still chilly, but Carol felt ready. She had conquered her fear of guns, and her aim was improving every time she practiced. She was confident that she could do this as well, and she liked that feeling.

"Okay, first thing to remember," Daryl said seriously, "is that you have one big advantage over the walkers. You can _think_. They're just actin on instinct. Ya do whatever ya can to confuse em." Carol nodded seriously.

"A lotta them're gonna be bigger'n you, so you're gonna have to compensate for that." She nodded again. "So we're gonna practice without a knife first, cause, ya know, don't really want ya to use it on me…" She grinned in agreement. "You wanna anticipate their movements. Assume that they're gonna lunge for ya, and lunge the other way. Make sense?"

"It _sounds_ easy enough," she said seriously. She knew it wasn't going to be easy, but she was eager to get started. This was one of the most important things she could learn.

"So just pretend you have somethin to stab me with, but focus mostly on your reflexes." He backed up a few feet, "Ready to try? Just try to avoid me, knock me off balance. Gonna try to act like a walker…"

They both chuckled, and yet, the thought of Daryl as a walker was terrifying. She pushed that idea out of her mind. Her knees were bent, and she concentrated on where to strike him first. He tried to imitate a walker's moans, lurching toward her slowly. It was distracting though, to think of someone she knew, that she cared about, as a walker. Then suddenly without warning, that thought connected back to Sophia coming out of the barn, and she lost her concentration completely.

He watched her, crouched and ready, then as he staggered forward, he saw something in her face change. By the time he had walked the few steps that had separated them, her resolve had crumbled and she appeared to be having a panic attack. She was leaning forward, her hands on her knees and her head hanging down, her breathing uneven. " 'S wrong? Ya okay?" He stood in front of her, not sure what to do.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, taking quick, shallow breaths and slowly pulling herself back up to stand. He watched her, thinking back on what had happened in those few minutes and what could have triggered her. It was something that he'd done… then it clicked. He was acting like a walker. Of course there was no other way for him to train her than for him to be her target, but of course, she didn't want to think of him that way… "Sophia?" he asked quietly. She nodded, tears falling down her cheeks and her head falling forward against his collarbone. He pulled his arms up around her, feeling like a jerk for making her cry.

As she stood leaning against him, the panic that she'd suddenly felt slowly evaporated. He was here, she was here, they were both safe. If she wanted to have a chance of staying that way, she needed to do this. Yes, her reality was that this reminded her of Sophia… but everything reminded her of Sophia, and it probably always would. It was always going to hurt, but she was not going to let it paralyze her. She needed to do this, so she was _going_ to do it. This time she'd be prepared for it, use it to her advantage somehow. The walkers were not going to break her. She was much stronger now than she'd been in that other life.

It took a few minutes, but he felt her breathing even out as she calmed down. He was relieved when she picked up her head, pushing herself back from him gently as he let his arms fall back down. He was glad that he could see that the fire in her eyes had returned… though he'd be lying to himself if he said a part of him didn't wish she was still leaning against him. That thought took him by surprise, and he pushed it aside quickly. She was now looking up at him with determination. "Ya okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm good. Let's try again." There was a new resolve in her voice and on her face. He looked at her for a few seconds longer, trying to read her expression to be sure that she wasn't just _saying_ she was fine when she really wasn't – he'd caught her doing that too many times – but she appeared to be ready. He nodded, backing up again. _Maybe we'll try without the sound effects to start out with_, he thought to himself. _Save that for later._ He moved slowly forward, trying his best to imitate a walker's lurching steps.

Carol crouched slightly, trying to get herself ready again. She noticed that Daryl wasn't imitating the walkers' noises this time, which she knew was for her benefit. He really was so thoughtful. She waited until he was just barely with her arm's length from her, before reaching out both her arms to try to push him backwards in the midsection with all her might. He tried to reach for her more slowly than usual, for realism's sake, since walkers wouldn't be as quick to react as he would. Still, he managed to grab her arms and pull her towards him with a yank. They ended up tripping over each other, nearly falling to the ground. He managed to catch her and they stood up, panting slightly and backing up to try again.

"I think I just got bit," she said, shaking her head.

"Yeah, ya did. So that didn't work. Try somethin else, and do it as fast as ya can," he advised her. "The faster ya move, the better yer chances with em." She nodded, and they tried again. On the next impact, she tried dodging sideways and shoving him with her foot, getting a slightly running start to gain momentum. He saw her coming at him and let himself go limp before impact, trying to simulate her chances against the real thing. Even when he wasn't braced for the hit, he was far more muscular than a walker, but he did feel himself knocked somewhat off balance, even as he reached out to try to grab her the way a walker would. "Better," he said. "But they could also grab yer foot, then you'd be in trouble. Let's go again."

Half an hour later, Daryl had a large stick, resembling the size and shape of a club, and he gave it to Carol. "Right, you're gettin it, so now add this to what you're already doin." She looked at him skeptically. "Don't worry bout hurtin me, I've survived way worse'n a club, been hit way harder'n ya can hit me." Her expression showed how much she hated to think about him in that kind of pain, but she nodded. "Remember, aim for the head," he reminded her.

She shuddered slightly, nodded, and crouched again, ready. She was developing a technique after figuring out what worked and what didn't, at least on Daryl. Of course there would only be one way to truly test out her skills, but in the meantime, she felt like she was slowly getting the hang out it. She was better off than before they'd started, if nothing else. Daryl shuffled slowly forward, moaning ever so slightly. She heard it, recognized the sound for what it was – a more realistic representation of what she was training to fight – and continued to wait for the perfect moment to use her weapon against him. This time she tried something different, faking to one side and then jumping to the other, lunging then jumping up with the club – her "knife" – winding up as if she were going to hit him with all her might but then only tapping it against the side of his head. They both looked surprised as they caught their breath, pausing for a second before they reset.

"Best one yet," he said, nodding approvingly. "Think ya got the walker that time." She smiled proudly. "Ya wanna go again?" he asked.

She backed up and got back into her crouched position. "Ready when you are," she said with determination.

They practiced for hours, until the sun was low enough in the sky to tell them that it was nearly dinner time. By the time they stopped, they were both exhausted and sweaty, despite the chill in the air. Carol felt invigorated and more self-confident than she could ever remember feeling. Not only was she learning to shoot, but to defend herself from walkers at close range, which would really be the most important skill when it eventually came to that – because she knew that sooner or later, it would.

They walked back up to the lodge side by side, teasing each other good naturedly. Carol couldn't help but feel like despite the reality of what they'd been out there doing – teaching her to be able to save her own life from bloodthirsty monsters – that this had felt one of the best days she'd had in a long time. She chuckled to herself at that thought, making Daryl glance over at her.

"Ya gonna share the joke with me?" His face remained serious, as it often did, but there was a twinkle in his eyes.

"Nothing, I just never knew it could be so much fun to learn how to fight things that wanted to kill me," she said with a smile.

"Pfft," he mumbled, trying to suppress a smile and bumping his shoulder against hers.

_Yep,_ she thought_, in this crazy new world, it doesn't get much better than this._

**Author's Note: OK, so I walk a very fine line between what makes sense in the show and what I'd really _like_ to see happen. This between the seasons section is a little harder in that way, because they changed a lot during the chunk of time that we didn't see passing... I don't know if the first half of this chapter went a little bit TOO cute... I agonized over it a bit, but in the end, well, I decided to go with it. Hope you all enjoyed it.**


	32. Creak

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but I'll be happy to talk your ear off about it, whether you want me to or not.**

**Between season 2 and season 3**

**On the road, Day**

It had been a long few months since the farm had fallen and the ten of them had escaped. Somehow, they'd survived the winter – or they would have in another few weeks – and had managed not to lose anyone else, though they didn't say these words aloud for fear of jinxing themselves. It certainly hadn't been easy, and there was no reason to think that it was going to get any easier. On the contrary, this life seemed to get harder every day. There was nothing to be done but work as hard as they could every day to survive in the face of so many things they couldn't control, hope that it would be enough, and then wake up and do it all again the next day. The words exhausting, stressful and grueling did not _begin_ to cover what they went through every day, and it was definitely wearing on all of them.

Today found the group once again riding down the road in a caravan, split between an old blue pickup truck and a small SUV as they traveled with one idea in mid: stay ahead of the herds. Glenn was driving the SUV, with Maggie beside him and Hershel and a now very pregnant Lori squeezed into the backseat. The group had agreed that those two, at least, should ride in the more comfortable of the two vehicles. That left Rick driving the pickup truck, Carl in the seat beside him, and T-Dog, Beth, Daryl and Carol in the bed of the pickup truck along with Daryl's prized motorcycle. The weather was unforgiving and gas was in short supply, so he hadn't been driving it lately.

They'd been up with the first rays of the sun to gain as much ground as they could, and the four in the back of the pickup truck were definitely feeling the early morning chill at full force. All the blankets in the group's possession were wrapped around them, but the wind whipping up as they drove was more than making up for it. They sat side by side against the back wall of the truck's cab, Daryl and Carol squeezed together and sharing blankets, as they usually did. T-Dog and Beth sat with their shoulders pressed together tightly under the blankets as well. They hadn't known each other long, but not only did it feel like a very long time, but by now they were all considered family. Besides, survival was more important than personal space.

They bumped along the uneven roads, watching as the sun burst over the horizon. Today's sunrise was especially breathtaking. It almost seemed that the sky had been lit on fire, the brilliant colors changing every second. Oranges, reds, yellows and pinks swirled together in a giant kaleidoscope before them. It seemed strange that such a thing, especially such a beautiful one, could still exist after nearly everything else that they'd known in their former lives – especially the _good_ things from those lives – had all but disappeared from existence. The view of the sunrise was the only advantage of sitting in the back of the truck, and almost made up for the cold. Almost.

As she watched the sky changing, Carol couldn't help but remember a time that seemed a million years ago now, back when she'd stood in the middle of an abandoned traffic jam at dawn on the same interstate that had brought the original members of their group – so many of whom they'd lost along the way – together, and watched a sunrise with Daryl. That was back when there had still been hope that Sophia was alive, before they'd found the farm, before they'd lost so many people and so much…

Of course, there was nothing to be done about that. All they could do was carry on with who and what was there now, and hope that the others, her own Sophia included, had gone on to something better. She leaned her head on Daryl's shoulder, sighing deeply and feeling him lean a little closer to her. She imagined that he probably knew exactly what she was thinking. It wouldn't surprise her, because he usually did.

Because they'd been cut off by herds of walkers so often over the past few months and had had to constantly change directions, they hadn't been able move in any one direction for very long. They'd really just been moving from house to house, neighborhood to neighborhood, town to town, looking for what supplies they could find and sheltering where they could, almost going in circles. They hadn't made it out of Georgia – not that they really knew where they wanted to go. All they could do was keep moving.

No one liked this constant motion. They desperately craved – needed – something more permanent. But what? Where? They hadn't seen anything all winter that had come anywhere near rivaling the security they'd had at the Greenes' farm. They had no choice but to keep going, which was driving Rick mad with worry since Lori would be having the baby sooner than later.

They'd stopped briefly around mid-day to eat a small meal, then piled back into the cars and continued on their way. Towards late afternoon they finally came across a neighborhood that seemed devoid of walkers, as far as they could tell. They split into groups in order to check the houses on the main street, looking for both supplies and a safe place to stay for the night. Daryl, Carol and Beth started at the far end of the street, Maggie, Glen and Lori started at the same end on the opposite side, and T-Dog, Rick, Hershel and Carl at the opposite end of the street. They could afford to split up like this, now that all of them were competent at defending themselves – even Carl. The winter had brought many changes to the group, and that was one of the biggest.

The groups had been making good progress along their sections of the block, finding a decent amount of useful supplies, enough that the groups had stopped back at the SUV to deposit the items from their bags into the trunk so that they could fill them again. As they neared the end of the section of the block they were clearing, Daryl, Carol and Beth approached what looked like any other house along that street. It was a two stories tall and made of bricks with four stairs leading up to a large front porch. Daryl cautiously tried the front door, finding this one unlocked. This was convenient but also a little eerie, because they'd had to break into most of the other houses.

He held the crossbow ready, motioning to the other two to follow him through the front door. They looked around the dark entryway, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the lack of light indoors. The two women had their knives at the ready as they strained their eyes to see in the dim room. Everything was perfectly still. Carol wasn't sure she'd ever get used to the ghostly silence that felt so unnatural in these houses. They still looked as if their former occupants had just gone out and might return at any moment, but of course chances were that they were long since dead and gone.

They spread out throughout the spacious foyer area, Beth banging hard against the front wall to draw out any walkers that might be inside. They stood and waited, barely daring to breathe as they listened, but heard no sound. Creeping forward into the elegantly furnished living room, they cautiously pulled back the heavy curtains to allow light to filter in, then moved to clear the rest of the downstairs. Besides the living room, there was also a dining room, a kitchen and a study on the first floor, all spacious and full of expensive looking furniture. This house seemed to be one of the most untouched that they had come across in months. As they finished clearing the large downstairs they had found no signs of the former occupants, other than their possessions. It was a relief, and yet, it seemed almost too good to be true. And too good to be true usually turned out not to be true, in their experience.

The three met up in the kitchen, which was at the back of the first floor. Daryl peered out the back window, noting that a sliding door led to a deck and beyond that, a grassy backyard. They would check that after they finished clearing the house, if they had time. There were several doors leading to closets and one that appeared to access a basement, but they silently agreed that they would check the upstairs before opening any of the doors. Better to know what, if anything, could come up behind them before moving into closed off areas.

Once again, Daryl went up the stairs first. While he knew that the other two could defend themselves, his crossbow remained the most powerful weapon between the three of them. Besides, facts were facts, and he was by far bigger and stronger than the others. While they could hold their own, he felt better with them behind him, just in case. He had become protective of both of them, as well as the other members of the group. As they crept silently up the steps, he wondered momentarily at that thought. He had never imagined that he, Daryl Dixon, who had always felt most comfortable in the woods alone, would ever in his life have come to be nearly as concerned about other people as he had been about the ones with whom he had driven into this town. The world really _had _changed since the Turn.

As Daryl's right foot touched the top step, they heard a soft _creak_ in the floorboards somewhere down the hall. It had been almost inaudible, and yet, they had heard it. They froze, standing still and silent where they were, listening. They barely dared to breathe, and a long minute later the sound came again, louder this time. It was difficult to determine from which direction it had come, and the hallway stretched out to both sides ahead of them. A minute passed, then two minutes, and they didn't hear the noise again. Yet they knew that they had heard it twice before, and they were not foolish enough to believe that whatever had made the sound had vanished. They continued to stand where they were, hesitant to step into the hallway in one direction or the other and then be caught from behind by the source of the sound.

Without glancing back, Daryl raised his hand and signaled to Carol, who was last of the three on the stairs, and she thumped the heel of her hand against the wall beside them three times, again attempting to draw out the source of the sound. There was a rustling from their right, and they turned expectantly in the direction of the sound. It was only a few seconds before the rustling grew louder, then it became a thumping, interspersed with several dull _thuds_ all of which told them that something was slowly moving in their direction.

A shadow appeared in the doorway at the end of the hall to the right, accompanied by the telltale shuffle and low moan that they'd become all too familiar in the recent past. Daryl waited just long enough for the form to step into the hallway, so that he could confirm that it was indeed what he thought it was – a walker. Before Beth or Carol, who were still behind him on the stairs, could even see it, he'd shot an arrow through its skull, the only sound they heard the _thunk_ made by the shot from his crossbow. They didn't hear movement from any of the other rooms, but they weren't foolish enough to think that that meant that they weren't still in danger.

Ever so slowly, they crept the rest of the way up the stairs. Daryl went down the hall to the left, Beth to the right, stepping over the walker that Daryl had shot as she tiptoed into the bedroom at the end of the hall where it had come from. Carol took the room straight ahead of the stairs. There were six doorways along the long, narrow hallway, and based on the lack of noise, they didn't expect clearing them to take long. Then again, the walker that Daryl had just killed had been pretty darn quiet.

Daryl crept to the end of the hall, finding the door at the very end partially ajar. He slowly pushed it the rest of the way open with the end of his crossbow. His eyes darted around swiftly, finding a spacious corner room that appeared to be the master bedroom, with large windows on two of the walls. Light streamed in, and with the exception of a thick layer of dust that covered all of the surfaces, nothing looked out of place. It was rare to find houses that looked so "normal," so untouched, anymore. Not that he had ever lived in a house like this, but it reminded him of the houses you'd sometimes see on TV, back when such a thing had existed.

He walked slowly into the room, checking every corner and several large closets, which left only a door at the far end of the room that appeared to lead to an attached bathroom. Daryl was beginning to feel like the room went on forever. He inched slowly into what he had correctly guessed to be the bathroom, where once again, everything appeared to be in order. There was one door left, on the far wall beside a large bathtub. That door was closed, and he observed somberly that someone had drawn a large X in thick, red marker. That seemed more than a little bit ominous. Just then he heard a muffled thud from down the hall, and turned as quickly as he could without making any noise to make his way back to the others.

Beth tiptoed over the walker that Daryl had shot, making sure that she stepped much farther over it than was actually necessary. She'd already been grabbed by a walker that she'd _thought _had been shot once back at the farm, and it had almost cost her her life. She was fairly sure that she wouldn't get so lucky twice. She entered the room silently, carefully, and looked around. It appeared to be a younger boy's bedroom, with posters of dinosaurs hanging on the walls, a dinosaur bedspread on the bed and a dinosaur desk lamp on the bedside table. The room was on the small side, and the only door was a closet in the corner. After clearing the rest of the room, she stood, knife at the ready, in front of the closet door before flinging it open to reveal… nothing. Clothes hung neatly on their hangers, and she exhaled loudly.

Carol had entered the room just in front of the stairs silently, moving without making a sound, just as Daryl had taught her. She stood just inside the doorway, listening. She wasn't sure if the almost imperceptible sounds she was hearing were from Daryl and Beth's searches of the other rooms, if there was actually something to worry about, or if she was imagining the sounds because she was straining her ears so hard. She slowly reached out her left hand and knocked it against the wall besides the doorway. Hearing nothing, she advanced further into the room, checking every inch, including the thankfully unoccupied closet. She was peering out the window into the backyard when she heard it, or rather, felt it.

She had been checking the perimeter of the yard, glancing quickly out the window and still not seeing any walkers, when she realized that something wasn't right. It was still quiet, but there was a feeling she couldn't put her finger on. She wheeled around, her knife already in her hand, and was startled to look directly into the eyes of a tall, broad shouldered male walker, already inside the bedroom and advancing on her quickly. She saw shadows moving in the hallway behind it, and couldn't be sure whether they were being made by Daryl, Beth, both of them, or more walkers that they hadn't seen. It wouldn't have been the first time they'd been surprised by walkers.

Her attention returned to the one that was shuffling towards her, now letting out low moans. Stepping forwards as she'd been taught, she steadied herself and when he was within striking distance, she ducked around the walker's attempts to grab her, and jammed her blade into the side of the its head without hesitation. It crumpled in front of her as she twisted her knife, pulling it back out of the skull, the knife now covered in foul smelling, clumpy liquid. She shuddered as she glanced at the body in front of her before stepping over it quietly to check on the situation in the hallway.

However, before she managed to get to the doorway, two more walkers blocked her path. She cursed silently, stepping back carefully to avoid tripping over the walker she had just taken out. She glanced to her left, and the first item she saw was a baseball bat sticking out from under a twin sized bed. _Perfect_, she thought to herself, darting over quickly to grab it. She'd never been good at baseball, but she'd grown pretty darn good at defending herself over the past few months, and she was fairly sure she could improvise.

The two walkers shuffled towards her in the small room, and she wasted no time before crouching down and swinging the bat as hard as she could at the knees of the closer walker, causing it to fall backwards onto the second one, both of staggering backwards and landing clumsily against the far wall with a heavy _thud._ They weren't done for, but it put them off balance and gave Carol a chance to regroup for just a second. She approached the first walker, who was now getting back up, from around the right side and easily slid her knife into its skull, as she had for the one who lay on the floor. Before she could pull the hand holding her knife back, however, the third walker reached out and grabbed her arm, holding it tighter than she would have expected it would have been able to.

Panic filled her immediately, and she knew that if she didn't get her arm away from that walker in the next few seconds, she was done for. She yanked as hard as she could, but to no avail. So she reached out her left foot, which was closest to the walker that was holding on to her, and kicked as hard as possible, just as she saw the monster's teeth reaching towards the arm that she couldn't break free. Luckily, the impact of her foot against the jelly-like substance of the walker's stomach – which, had her life not been in danger, she would have taken a moment to feel disgusted by – preceded the walker's teeth reaching her arm, and its tight grip loosened just enough for her to pull her arm free. She wasted no time before plunging her knife into that walker's skull as well. Both of those walkers fell to the ground by her feet as she stepped back in disgust, panting heavily. She stood looking around the room for just a moment, considering what she had just done. _She had saved herself._ She smiled, but there was no time for celebrations, because who knew what else was waiting for her or the others.

Between the three of them, they had now cleared three of the six rooms, though none of them had any way of knowing what the others had found. Carol hoped they were alright, as she got ready to enter the hall again.


	33. Lucky

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but today it doesn't matter because it's back from midseason (5) break tonight, so it's all good!**

**Author's Note: So parts of the fanfic site were down all day yesterday, as some of you may have noticed – you could read chapters but nothing else, or at least that's what happened to me. If you had any desire to leave me a review on chapter 32 but didn't have a chance, PLEASE consider going back and doing so. I'll beg if it helps… I enjoy reading them SO MUCH, you all have no idea.**

**Also, another big thank you to Poppy P for the inspiration for the conversation at the end of this chapter. I loved the idea so much, and how it would help tie things in as we go through season 3, I hope you don't mind that I borrowed it.**

**Between season 2 and season 3**

**In a large brick house where there may or may not be more walkers, in a suburban neighborhood somewhere in Georgia, Late Afternoon**

Daryl emerged from the door to the giant master bedroom, padding quietly into the hallway. He heard muffled noises, but nothing he could be sure of. He approached the next door along the hall, the one that was between the room he had just left and the one Carol had gone into. Again, the door was partially ajar and he pushed it open with his crossbow, prepared for many things, but unprepared for what he found.

It appeared from the various posters, pictures and ever so pale purple color decorating the walls that it was a teenage girl's room. There was a double bed in the center, covered in a purple quilt. On the bed, Daryl saw a sight that he hoped he would never, ever see again – what was _left_ of a victim of what you'd call a walker feeding frenzy. Most of the flesh had been removed from the arms, legs and torso. It was truly horrifying. There was blood everywhere, and as hardened as he had become to tragedy, he closed his eyes against the gruesome scene for a moment. But Daryl knew what needed to be done, so he opened his eyes once more, strode quickly to the side of the bed and plunged his knife into the skull of what was left of the walkers' victim. Not only was it better safe than sorry, but it was certainly the most humane thing that could have been done. At that moment it didn't matter whether or not that poor soul posed an actual danger to him.

Averting his eyes from the bed after that and attempting to push down the bile that was rising in his throat, he checked the rest of the room, which appeared to be clear. The only door was the closet, which thankfully ended up being clear as well. Before leaving the room, he picked up the corners of the quilt, pulling them together and lifting the bloody remains as best he could off of the bed, dumping the heap into the corner that was closest to the door, leaving it loosely wrapped up. There was no sense in anyone else seeing that, at least not when they first entered the room. He wished that there was time to take care of the body more respectfully, but the reality was that there wasn't. There was still a lot of blood visible on the sheets that remained on the bed, but at least the body was obscured from sight. He raised his crossbow again and prepared to move further down the hallway, bracing himself for what he might find next.

Beth crept quietly out of the room she'd cleared, her senses on high alert. She'd heard a _thud_, but she couldn't tell where it had come from. It could have been nothing, but it could have been something… and the only safe thing to do was to assume that it was _always_ something. She emerged from the room she had just cleared, stepping carefully over the walker that Daryl had shot with his crossbow, bending slowly to retrieve the arrow from its skull to return it to him. She was straining so hard to hear where the noise – the one she _thought _she had heard – had come from, but didn't hear anything.

The next door she came to was to the left of the bedroom she had just emerged from, just beside the stairs. It was mostly open, and she peered inside to find a large, sunny bathroom. She noticed nothing out of place in the room as her eyes darted around quickly… and then she saw it.

A shadow moved within the glass shower stall, and it began moaning frantically when it noticed her standing just inside the doorway. She gave a small gasp, not having expected to see it there, watching as it pressed harder and harder against the glass enclosure. The metal frame strained under the weight and she could see that it wasn't going to hold for long. She glanced for a split second down the hallway to her right, wondering how the others were faring, before returning her attention to the walker in front of her.

Despite being trapped inside the shower stall, the walker appeared to be fully dressed. She wondered if someone had purposely cornered it there somehow. She didn't have time to wonder much more, however, before the walker managed to push the glass panel on the side facing her right out of the frame of the shower enclosure, sending it crashing loudly to the ground and splintering glass across the room. She put her arm up to shield her face as the glass fell, though luckily none of it made it to where she was standing. The walker fell forward amongst the shards of glass, reaching out towards her and moaning desperately.

Carol was just walking through the doorway of the room where she'd killed the three walkers when she heard the loud _crash_, the splintering of glass, and the moaning sound of a walker from down the hall. She took only a quick glance into the hallway before she ran towards the sound, and was then nearly trampled by Daryl, who was also barreling down the narrow hall towards the commotion. They quickly got their balance again before proceeding together, quietly and only a little more slowly.

When they reached the bathroom doorway, they found Beth already advancing nimbly but carefully on the walker who still lay amongst the shards of glass. They watched with relief as the girl quickly stabbed her knife into the walker's brain before it had a chance to get back up. She took a few steps back and looked up at them with both pride and relief, breathing hard. She held out her left hand towards Daryl, where she was still clasping the arrow that she'd pulled out of the walker on the floor in the hall.

However, as relieved as they were, and as proud as they were of each other, there wasn't time for celebration of their respective victories. They updated each other about what they'd found, Daryl mentioning the door with the X on it with concern. There was one room left on the upper floor that they hadn't cleared yet, in between the bedrooms that Beth and Carol had checked. Daryl peered out into the hallway and led the way to that room, once again because his crossbow was the most powerful of their weapons. That room was clear, so they went back to the master bedroom, together this time, to begin their second pass through each room to gather any usable supplies and clothes they could, leaving the door with the X undisturbed. They had had enough excitement, and had no intention of staying in this house longer than the time it took to gather a few things anyway. They quickly swept through the rest of the house, picking up supplies, before slipping back out the front door to find the others.

…

There had apparently been similar experiences among the other groups as they had cleared the houses along both sides of the block – they had found walkers, but not too many, and nothing they couldn't ultimately handle. They met back up by the cars as dusk slowly crept across the sky to discuss what they had found out about this neighborhood. Maggie, Glenn and Lori said that they'd found the perfect house for them to stay in for the night. It had been completely free of walkers, still had plenty of supplies, which they'd left intact for the time being, and was spacious enough for them not to be crowded together.

There were no signs of herds in the neighborhood, so they hoped they'd be alright there at least for the night, and agreed that the house that Maggie had described to them sounded like the perfect place for the group to sleep. Rick and Daryl went in to sweep the house again – because you could _never _be too careful – and once it was declared safe, they moved their vehicles into the yard beside it, behind a hedge so that they were hidden from view from the street. As the light disappeared, they took a few possessions from the cars and moved in for the night. _Just in time_, thought more than one person in the group.

It wasn't too long after that when Daryl sat on a rocking chair on the front porch, just in front of the front door, allowing the chair to rock gently beneath him. He couldn't remember ever sitting in one before, but he suddenly understood why people liked these chairs. There was something calming about the motion, and as he sat in the chilly night air, his crossbow sitting on his lap, he couldn't help but feel slightly less tense than he had when he'd come out to take the first watch shift.

There was a click and he heard the front door open behind him, then another click as the door closed and soft footsteps on the concrete of the front porch. And then Carol was in front of him, holding out a large, fleece blanket and a plate of food, which he accepted with a grunt, a nod and a half smile. He draped the blanket over his shoulders and balanced the plate on his knees. Thankfully the night wasn't as cold as it had been that night they'd sat in the rain back on the front porch of the hunting lodge. That already felt like a million year ago.

"Hey," he said gruffly. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she replied with a smile, sinking down in the rocking chair beside him. He'd kinda hoped she'd join him while he sat there, as she had done plenty of other times when he was on watch, and he had pulled two chairs over just in case. She'd brought her plate of food outside with her as well, as she sometimes did. She didn't have to, and he never expected her to, but he was glad when she did. It was always nicer than having to eat alone. And as she had already observed more than once, if she didn't bring him a plate, he usually just didn't eat.

He noticed that under the blanket wrapped around her shoulders she wore an oversized grey sweater that he didn't recognize. "You been shoppin?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he took a bite of his dinner.

"I guess you could say that," she said thoughtfully. "It wouldn't have been my first choice, but there was nothing my size or my style in the closet. It works as well as anything, I suppose," she added thoughtfully, fingering the bottom edge of the grey material.

He grunted his agreement as he continued to eat, and she smiled slightly, looking out into the darkness as she ate as well. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, eating and listening to the stillness of the night, the only sound the slight creaking of their rocking chairs. Suddenly, out of the blue, he heard Carol inhale softly and say, "You know, we're pretty lucky."

He snorted just a little, wondering how in the world _anything_ that had happened to them since they'd survived the end of the world could have been considered lucky. "What ya mean?" he asked, genuinely curious to know.

"I don't know…" she continued slowly, thoughtfully. "I mean, yes, so many bad things have happened to us. _So many,_" she paused, her eyes prickling slightly at the thought of Sophia, and the others that they'd lost along the way. "But really, when you think about it, what were the odds that any of us would have survived at all? Or that our group would have ended up finding each other? I know that _I_ certainly wouldn't have stood a chance on my own."

She glanced over at him and tilted her head, thinking. "You, of course… you would've been fine." She paused as if considering his chances without the group, looking at him thoughtfully. "You may be the only one in the group who would've been." She stopped, appearing to be lost in thought. He was trying to think of how to respond, when she began speaking again. "We were so lucky when you and Merle joined the group. We _never_ would have made it this far without you."

His skin prickled slightly at the mention of his brother, and he wasn't quite sure what to say in response. Merle was still a sore subject for him. Daryl hoped that he was out there somewhere, but… well, nothing in this world was sure anymore, except that more pain and disappointment seemed to await them around every corner. He was also uncomfortable with the blatant compliment she'd just given him. He looked out into the blackness, willing himself to stop imagining what may have happened to the only family he had had left.

She continued speaking, though it wasn't clear whether it was for her own benefit, or his. "It's strange how people who you've lived your whole life never having met once, having never had a thing in common with, can become your family… In almost no time at all."

"Yeah," he mumbled, nodding his head and now thinking that she had a point. He'd never stopped to think about it, but the group _had _become some kinda family. A fucked up one, granted, but family nonetheless. And if he was being honest, a far _less_ fucked up family that his real one. No, this family treated him far better than his father or Merle ever had. His mother had been good to him, but that had been so long ago, it was hard to even remember much about her now, beyond that she had been the only one to treat him as though she cared. "Family's family. No matter how fucked up it may be," he added with a trace of bitterness. He was pretty sure his family could win a prize in that department, and yet… would he have done anything he could've if he had the chance to find Merle, as much of an asshole as he was? Yes, of course.

"Some people are lucky with the family they get to start out with. Some… are _less_ lucky," she mused, peering at him hesitantly. He couldn't tell if she was talking about his bad luck, or hers, or maybe both. He realized that he didn't know anything about her family besides Ed and Sophia – though clearly the _less lucky_ could have referred to what he _did_ know of her life. Both having been married to Ed, and having lost Sophia seemed to him to have been exceptionally unlucky. She'd never mentioned anyone else… no parents, no siblings… no one. It didn't really seem odd though – most of the group didn't actually know a lot about each other's pasts, when he thought about it – not beyond what each of them had chosen to share. It wasn't as though there was time to sit around sharing stories, and well, sharing those memories wouldn't have led anywhere most of them wanted to go. After all, anyone who wasn't there with them… well, they were pretty much presumed to be dead at this point. None of them wanted to say it out loud, but that was life now. Assuming the best was like setting yourself up for disappointment. These days assuming the worst was a much safer bet.

They'd both been sitting quietly for some time, he realized, and when he looked over at her, he saw that she'd been just as lost in her thoughts as he'd been in his. He could see that she was still far away, but her face didn't betray what she was thinking.

"Hey," he said quietly, waiting for her to look up before continuing. "Ya know how far you've come, don't ya?" She looked at him questioningly, not sure exactly what he was talking about, or where this was coming from. "Before, when ya said ya wouldn't have made it on yer own? Maybe not then, but ya sure can take care of yourself now. Makes me feel better, knowin I don't gotta worry about ya _quite _so much." Then he looked down shyly, realizing what he'd just said.

"You worry about me?" she asked softly, not daring to let herself believe it.

"Pfft," he grunted, now feeling embarrassed for having said so. "Not 's much as I used to… but yeah."

Slowly, she felt a smile creep across her lips. She couldn't for the life of her think of what to say to respond to that. Daryl had that effect on her sometimes. Luckily, they'd always had such a connection to each other that most of the time, words weren't really necessary. This was one of those times. He could see from the look on her face how much those few words had meant to her, which made his embarrassment worth it.

Just then, the door creaked open and T-Dog's shadow emerged from inside the house, there to relieve Daryl him from his watch shift.

"Go on in and get some sleep, guys," T-Dog said softly. "I got it."

They looked up at T-Dog, having both been snapped out of their thoughts. They gathered their plates wearily, stretching as they stood. Daryl watched as Carol took the blanket from her shoulders and handed it to T-Dog. "It's chilly out here," she told him. "Take this." Daryl shook his head slightly as T-Dog thanked her, wondering once again at how she always seemed to take care of everyone in their group.

The pair walked slowly toward the house as T-Dog nodded at them and took a seat in one of the rocking chairs, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. Daryl opened the front door, then gestured for Carol to go through first. He noticed that this small gesture made her both smile and look down at the floor awkwardly. She was _still_ not used to these small acts of politeness, which made him angry with Ed all over again. He watched her uncomfortably try to accept that someone could be kind to her, noticing that it actually seemed to _confuse_ her, and it made him sad. He shook his head slowly.

Suddenly, he thought back to Carol's comment about luck. He hadn't ever been lucky in his life before – to put it mildly. His only luck had always been very, very bad luck. But was it possible that that had changed? Because right now, he felt something downright unfamiliar. He noticed it as he walked through the doorway and into the house behind her, and he noticed it even more watching her smile wearily at him when she turned around to glance back over her shoulder.

He felt lucky.

**Author's Note 2: I hope the past 33 chapters have helped give you a little TWD fix during the midseason break. It's weird to be thinking about this story just arriving at season 3 when we'll be seeing season 5b tonight… I have no plans to stop updating this story though. I'll catch up with the show one of these days… maybe by season 7 or 8. :) Thank you for all of the love so far, and the awesomely generous reviews that some of you leave me. I appreciate every one of them.**


	34. Watching

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but that's probably for the best. Robert Kirkman does a better job with it than I could! Still, the characters are fun to borrow and play with.**

**Author's Note: I tried something a little different here (or at least I felt like I did), so I'm curious to see what everyone thinks.**

**Season 3, episode 1**

**On the road, Dawn**

He'd been watching her all day. Not in a creepy way, it was more protective than anything else. He'd been watching her pretty much since the moment they'd woken up on the cold, hard floor of the house where they'd spent the night. The whole group had been huddled together in the living room, which was large but not large enough to allow anyone more than a few inches of space around themselves. As usual, he'd been the first one awake, just before the sun. He'd opened his eyes and turned his head to see her curled on her side facing him, not far away but in her own space. Glenn had been on watch by the large window beside the front door, but otherwise no one else had even been stirring. It was comforting to see her like this, sleeping, untroubled by nightmares. She seemed to be having them less frequently… or maybe she'd just gotten better at hiding them.

As if his thoughts had been too noisy and had awoken her, her eyes blinked open at that moment. He tried to shut his again quickly before she saw him watching her, but she was faster than him by a fraction of a second. He heard her whisper "Good morning," and his mouth drew involuntarily into a small smile in response.

"Why you wakin me up, woman?" he replied in the same hushed tone, reigning in the smile in favor of a serious look, letting his eyes blink open as if he'd been asleep. The smile that met his eyes was full force now, and it was all he could do to suppress his own in response. He faked an expression of annoyance, which he noticed only made her smile a little more, and groaned quietly as he pushed himself off the ground. He watched as her smile didn't falter while _she_ watched _him_ get up. Nope, she didn't buy the annoyance for a second. _Dammit_, he thought to himself. _Can't hide anything from her_.

He stepped carefully around the others, making his way towards the front door. He nodded at Glenn, who nodded back at him in response as he passed. Daryl turned around before reaching for the knob on the front door, seeing that Carol had closed her eyes again, still laying in the same place between Lori on one side and his now vacant space on the other. With that he quietly opened the door and left the house to try to catch some breakfast for the group.

X

He was approaching the house an hour or so later when he heard the quiet noises of the group, talking in hushed voices around a small campfire that they'd made in the front yard of the house where they'd slept. Being as accustomed to the wilderness as he was, he had a chance to observe them before they noticed him coming. It concerned him a little bit that he was able to get so close to them before they even noticed, however, he saw that T-Dog was standing vigilant on the front porch, having replaced Glenn on watch, and knew that as soon as he stepped out from between the trees he would be spotted.

He hesitated just inside the tree line for a moment, watching Carol's profile as she worked to stoke the fire, enough to keep it going but not enough to let it get too big, all the while quietly talking to the others around her. He marveled at her ease with the others in the group, how she always seemed to have a kind word and a helping hand for everyone, no matter how stupid or selfish the others acted.

She certainly had changed over the winter. She'd gone from completely shutting herself off from the rest of them in her grief over losing Sophia, from both feeling and, really, _being_ weak and vulnerable, into a vital member of the team who was finally beginning to realize her own worth. She could take care of herself now, in addition to caring for the others. She had been taking care of people as best she could for so long without a second thought, always minimizing that care as nothing. It was just in her nature to be kind. Sadly, life had taught her that she was useless. Finally she was coming to see that she _wasn't_.

Of course, it wasn't just Carol. They had all changed that winter. He stood in the trees and watched these people that he'd started feeling a kinship with and shook his head. He never would have thought it could happen, but it had… but only because of her. She had told him in no uncertain terms that he belonged there, even when she should have hated him, when she should have wanted nothing to do with him. This was why he watched her. No matter how strong she had become, his instincts told him that he had to look out for her.

No, that was wrong. He didn't have to. She was proving capable of looking out for _herself_. He didn't _have _to. He _wanted_ to.

X

It hadn't been easy, but they'd successfully cleared the field in front of the prison – the prison that Rick and Daryl had found accidentally only that morning – of all walkers. For the moment, this place was theirs. Carol walked through the gate followed by Carl, then Daryl and Hershel, out into the open field which stretched far before them, yet still had chain link fences around the perimeter to keep it safe from the outside world. Daryl was only a few paces behind her, and he watched her as she jogged ahead of him, almost overcome with joy. "We haven't had this much space since we left the farm!" she exclaimed. The smile on her face threatened to crack it in two. The rest of the group followed closely behind Hershel, all of them equally giddy with delight. There wasn't much to celebrate in their world, but this was definitely one of those few things that they could allow themselves to enjoy, if only for a short time.

They decided that they deserved a rest. Yes, the walkers that they had shot and stabbed still needed to be removed from the field before it could really feel like a safe place, but before embarking on that next big project, they came to a spot in the middle of grass where they all just flopped down to relax. Several of them, Carol included, lay on their backs looking up at the sky. Daryl sat in the grass near her, one leg folded on the ground and the other knee bent in the air in front of him, where he rested his elbow. He watched Carol as she lay in the grass, arms stretched out to either side, looking happier than he thought he'd ever seen her. She was staring up at the late afternoon sky, her expression so peaceful that within minutes her eyelids began to droop.

She wasn't the only one who looked like they might soon fall asleep. Lori's eyes were already closed, and Beth looked like hers were about to be as well. This place seemed to be a tonic for them. Just the ability to lay down and think about nothing was a luxury.

Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by Carol's voice whispering to him from nearby.

"Daryl," she said softly, "Am I dreaming? Or am I really lying in the grass?" Her eyes were still closed, and he bit back a smile as he watched her. The others, sitting nearby but spread out, were enjoying the fact that for once they _didn't_ have to be huddled together.

"Nah, you're not dreamin," he told her quietly, watching her smile increase in intensity as his words sunk in.

"How do I know you're not just saying that in my dream?" she challenged him playfully. "Because I think this is definitely too good to be reality."

"Dunno, guess ya can't really know fer sure," he drawled, shrugging his shoulders. "So just enjoy it." As he watched her laying so happily in the grass, it _did_ seem hard to believe that this sunny, currently walker-less (unless you counted the ones they'd already shot down, of course) day was reality, even with his wide eyes open.

X

They had never actually discussed it, but somehow when he was on watch at night, she usually showed up. It had happened more and more over the course of the winter, and by now if you'd asked anyone else in the group but the two of them, they'd have said it was expected. If Daryl was on watch at night, it was just assumed that Carol would be there as well.

Of course the two of them had no such actual agreement. It just seemed to happen. If Daryl was on watch at dinner time, Carol would bring him some food, then just end up staying there unless there was something that needed her attention elsewhere. If he was on watch later, even if no one had told her, she just seemed to end up there. It may have had something to do with the fact that they spent so much time watching each other, so if she didn't see him somewhere else around, she'd look until she found him. Besides, she still didn't like giving in to sleep if she could avoid it. The nightmares had slowly been growing fewer and farther in between, but when she had them they were still terrifying. And besides, she'd always found Daryl's presence calming. She felt safer around him than anyone else.

Daryl watched her walking across the darkened field from the campfire, carrying what was probably a plate. He smiled to himself, thinking that he'd be glad to have her company. The thought was still a surprise to him each time it entered his mind, since he'd always preferred to be alone to having _anyone's_ company in the past. And yet… he liked it when she was around. He hadn't quite figured out why, he just knew that she seemed to understand him so well it was eerie, and vice versa. So when he watched her trying to climb up to where he stood on the overturned truck, he reached down to help pull her up.

She hadn't asked him to rub her shoulder, but as he once again watched her, her discomfort became immediately obvious. When he asked, she told him the pain had been caused by the rifle she'd been shooting with earlier. His first thought was that he should try to fix it for her. He never would have entertained the idea of touching anyone else that way, for any reason, but this was _Carol_, and he was comfortable with her. Then suddenly he was working on her shoulder and as he watched her, saw her smile and turn around to glance at him, it suddenly struck him exactly what he was _doing_.

_How in the hell did I just end up rubbin her shoulder, anyway? _he wondered, trying not to let his feelings show too clearly on his face. He didn't know why he bothered to try to hide them, since she always seemed see through him anyway. Suddenly he felt twenty-nine different kinds of uncomfortable. He tried not to let it get the best of him, but almost as quickly as he had started rubbing her shoulder, he stopped, telling her that they should get back. He hoped that she couldn't sense just exactly how flustered he'd suddenly become, thought he imagined that she probably could, as usual.

He knew exactly how much she enjoyed teasing him, and he figured that after what just happened, he could probably expect more. He tried not to glance at her, as if that would somehow stop her from knowing how he felt. He hated when she did that, and yet… he liked it, in a fucked up kinda way. The only reason he knew that he like it somehow was because he knew that if anyone else would said what she said to him _next_, he may well have shot them with his crossbow.

"It's pretty romantic," she said, and he recognized that twinkle in her eye, the pouty lips. _Oh no, _he thought, bracing him for whatever it was she was about to say.

"Want to screw around?"

He would have been less surprised if all the lights around the prison would have suddenly been illuminated at once than he was at that question coming out of her mouth. He was afraid to think about what color he might be turning, even though he _knew_ she was kidding. This was just what she liked to do, to say things that she _knew_ made him uncomfortable.

"Pfft," he grunted. They both laughed, and really, it _was_ funny.

"I'll go down first," he offered, shuffling past her and bending towards the edge of the truck.

"Even better," she teased him mercilessly.

_Oh for fuck's sake, woman! _he screamed in his head. He just straightened back up enough to look at her and shake his head slightly, feeling his face flush. She knew _exactly_ what she was doing to him, and he knew that she knew it.

"_STOP," _he told her in that same tone he always used. She was enjoying this _way _too much.

He jumped to the ground first and reached up his hand to help her down. He watched her smile down at him, looking at him in mock innocence, and he knew that his face betrayed his discomfort, yet also showed that he enjoyed the banter. _Dammit._

He held onto her hand until just a little longer than he needed to hold it in order to steady her on the ground. He looked around them into the darkness, his hand now on the strap of his crossbow and his eyes on high alert for danger from any direction, before they started their walk back to the campfire. After all, you could_ never_ be too careful. They'd lost too many people to think that they could. Just because they believed they were safe here did _not _mean that they actually were. How many times had they made _that _mistake? _Too many_, he thought to himself as they made their way back to the campfire.

Shortly after they sat down and Rick left to take over watch duty, the group was beginning to quiet down for the night, everyone slowly shifting from sitting by the fire to laying down to sleep. Carol leaned back, using her backpack as a makeshift pillow, and Daryl watched her as she curled herself onto her side facing him. He lay down on his back, not far away, putting his arm under his head and looking up at the moon and the glittering stars. The weather was clear and not too cold, and he could feel her watching him. It made him smile just a little, and without even looking in her direction, it was almost as though he could feel her smiling back at him in the moonlight.

"Good night," he heard her whisper, softly enough that she could only have been talking to him.

He grunted something quietly in return. _Why do you bother? _he asked himself. _'S not like she can't see right through ya. _He really didn't know, but just then it didn't matter. Just then he was there, she was there, they were both safe and so was everyone who had been with them that morning, and that was all that mattered.

…

She'd been watching him all day. Not in a creepy way, it was more curious than anything else. Before she'd even opened her eyes she'd felt _him_ watching _her_ as well. It was a comforting feeling, not like when she would awaken long ago and know that Ed was watching her. Then she had been filled with apprehension, fear, dread. No, feeling Daryl watching her filled her with… peace. She always felt safe when he was around. She blinked her eyes open to see Daryl, not far away, hastily closing his. She laughed to herself. _Busted_! she thought. "Good morning," she whispered faintly, not wanting to wake anyone else. She hadn't moved to look around yet, but she could tell from the stillness in the room that the others were still sleeping.

She saw him smile just a little bit for a fraction of a second, then watched him regain control and ask softly "Why you waking me up, woman?" His eyes were still closed and he was pretending to be grumpy about it. They both knew he had been awake first, and she couldn't help but smile broadly. This was the side of Daryl, the joking side, that it seemed that only _she_ got to see, which made it all the more special.

She watched as he opened one eye a crack, then the other, feigning annoyance and sleepiness. He slowly raised his head and looked around, then pushed himself up off of the floor, trying to pretend that he was annoyed with her. More than anything, she found his pretend annoyance cute. She'd watched him long enough and felt like she understood him well enough to know when he was _actually_ annoyed. As he padded quietly away, she closed her eyes again, not quite ready to get up, as uncomfortable as the floor was. She opened her eyes for just a second when she heard the door creak open, and watched the back of him disappear as he slipped past Glenn, into the early morning darkness.

X

They'd all trooped out into the field in front of the prison that they – the whole group, herself included, she thought proudly – had worked together to clear. There wasn't any one of them who hadn't contributed. Not Carl, not Lori, not Beth, and not herself. There were no helpless members of their group anymore. As they met up just inside the gate leading to the field, she watched the excitement dance in Daryl's eyes despite the fact that he didn't wear his excitement quite as clearly on his face as she did. "Nice shootin," he'd told her, and his expression had told her that he'd meant it sincerely. She'd run ahead of him into the field in her excitement, but she turned back around several times to see that the group – that _he _– was following close behind.

When she flopped down in the grass, just because there was no reason _not_ to, she saw the amusement on his face. It was probably the kind of expression that the others would have missed, but to her it was clear. It only made her smile more. At that moment it seemed like _everything_ made her smile more broadly. She watched him sit down nearby as she lay down on her back. From the sounds she heard and what little she could see as she lay there, she knew that many of the others had done the same. It was such a beautiful day, and what they had just accomplished felt so monumental, she just couldn't imagine NOT laying down to look up at the clouds right then and there.

She snuck a peek back at Daryl, who was still looking at her as if she'd lost her mind. She didn't care. He may not have been as expressive with his emotions, but she could tell that he was happy too. And with good reason. _They had cleared the field_. Maybe, just maybe, they could stay here, stop running for a while. The thought by itself was intoxicating. She looked back up at the clouds above her, letting her thoughts drift, and it wasn't long before her eyelids closed. She wasn't sleeping, exactly, as much as she was perfectly relaxed. She couldn't remember the last time she could say she felt that way. She wasn't watching Daryl just then, but at that moment she didn't have to. She knew she could afford to let herself relax this completely as long as Daryl was there watching out for her.

X

It was dark now, and the group had made a campfire in the middle of the field. Daryl had gone out earlier and found the usual assortment of small animals, mainly squirrels, in the woods around the prison, then had volunteered to relieve T-Dog on watch while everyone else had sat and eaten together by the fire. Daryl had made many great strides toward becoming a part of the group, but he still needed his time alone.

Carol had been watching Daryl even as she'd sat with the rest of the group. His watch post was across at the other end of the field, by the gate, atop on overturned truck. She'd watched him on and off for a while now, and he had alternated between sitting, standing and pacing, or the nearest he could come to pacing on what had once been the side of the vehicle. She'd finished eating and figured that she'd better take him a small helping of what they had before it was all gone. As far as she could remember, no one else had ever brought him food when he was on watch, so she had always taken it upon herself. Not only did she not mind, she actually enjoyed the time with him.

She stood up with the food as the others talked quietly, walking away from the campfire. The eyes of the rest of the group on her but no one asked her where she was going. They didn't need to. They'd seen her eat her own food, and now she was walking away from the fire with another helping in the direction where Daryl was on watch. It didn't take a genius to figure it out, and she'd done the same thing many times before. This group was an interesting collection of people watchers. For as much as Carol and Daryl watched each other, the rest of the group also watched the two of them with curiosity. No one could quite figure out _what_ was going on between those two. The only thing that was for sure was that they meant _something_ to each other.

She watched him as she walked across the field towards him, knowing that he could see her as well. The field was awash in moonlight, so the area outside the campfire's glow didn't feel as gloomy as it may have otherwise. He didn't seem to be doing anything differently than he had when she'd been back at the campfire, but there was a difference somehow. She realized that it was probably the feeling that he was watching her, which she had experienced many times in the past. She shook her head and chuckled as she considered how much time they spent watching each other. She supposed it must be the same with him as it was with her – since they seemed to be alike in so many other ways. At least to her, their watching each other was their way of watching _out_ for each other. The world had become a dangerous place since right around the time they'd met, and the only way to know for sure that someone else was okay was to see it with your own eyes. She thought that maybe it was their way of reassuring themselves that the other was still there, and that they were safe.

X

She tried not to turn around and look at him while he was rubbing her shoulder. Tried, and failed. She hadn't asked him to do it, and she wasn't going to – couldn't – pretend she didn't like it. She knew that she shouldn't have turned to look at him, because as soon as their eyes met, he got uncomfortable. This kind of thing was so unlike him, she wondered what had made him suggest it in the first place. She suspected that he just hadn't thought about what he was doing. He was just trying to do something nice for her, as he so often did. She couldn't help that it made her smile.

"Better get back," he said uncomfortably, releasing her shoulder from his hands. She saw the discomfort in his face and could just imagine what was running through his head. _How in the hell did I just end up rubbin her shoulder, anyway?_ She chuckled to herself, thinking that was probably exactly what he was thinking.

For some reason, she could never resist teasing him. She loved to watch him blush and squirm, always in a playful way, because she could tell that though it made him uncomfortable. Still, on some level he seemed to like it. Every once in a while he'd even tease her back.

"It's pretty romantic," she said, a twinkle in her eye, making a face at him. "Want to screw around?" She knew that in his head, his jaw had just hit the ground and she tried to suppress the laugh that was trying desperately to escape from her lips.

"Pfft," he grunted, then they both chuckled. They shuffled around each other to get ready to jump down off the truck to the ground. "I'll go down first," he said, bending towards the edge.

"Even better," she teased him mercilessly.

He stopped bending toward the edge of the truck and straightened partway to look at her, feeling his face flush. She knew _exactly_ what she was doing to him, but she couldn't help herself.

"_STOP," _he told her. She absolutely loved watching him when he was flustered like that.

He jumped to the ground first and reached up his hand to help her down. She took it with a smile, and she could see that any feigned annoyance that may have been in his voice was for show. She jumped down from the truck, and held onto her hand for a split second longer than it actually took to help steady her on the ground. She watched him glance around the darkness around them in the few seconds before they started walking back towards the campfire, his hand going to the strap on his crossbow just in case. They ambled back to the campfire, where the rest of the group was listening to Maggie and Beth sing a song from their past, their voices harmonizing in the night air.

The two sat down beside each other, slightly outside the circle around the fire, and Rick went to take the next watch shift. The rest of the group began to shift from sitting around the fire to laying down as they began to get sleepy, exchanging quiet murmurs about getting some sleep for the work they had ahead of them the next day. Carol was one of the first to lean back in the grass, putting her backpack under her head as a makeshift pillow. She turned on her side so that she could feel just a little of the heat from the fire on her back, despite the fact that she and Daryl weren't as close to it as the others were. She watched Daryl as he lay down on his back, not far away, his arm under his head as he looked up at the moon. The weather was clear and not too cold, and she couldn't help but smile as she watched _him_ smile just a little in the moonlight.

"Good night," she whispered, softly enough that only he could hear her.

She heard him grunt something quietly in return, and it wasn't long before they both drifted off to sleep. At that moment they were both safe, and that was all that mattered.


	35. Silence

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… I'm content to just obsess over it.**

**Season 3, episode 1**

**The Prison, Evening**

After many attempts, Carol had finally convinced Lori to lay down on the bottom bunk in the cell where they'd both deposited their few possessions. Things between Lori and Rick appeared to be going very badly – they barely seemed to speak, and when they did it almost always ended in arguments, from what Carol could tell, at least. Lori, who was now probably _at least_ nine months pregnant, needed support, and wasn't going to be getting it from Rick anytime soon. Carol couldn't leave her friend when she needed her. It was just her nature. Besides, Carol had nothing against having a roommate, at least for now.

Still, even after Lori was asleep, Carol couldn't even bring herself to climb to the top bunk. She'd been sitting on the chair in the small cell, talking to Lori quietly until she fell asleep. After that, she'd been lost in her own thoughts for a while. It was so quiet in the prison. No sounds of nature like they were so used to from being outdoors, no sounds of walkers, thankfully – at least right now. The silence was welcome, but it was… eerie. It seemed like the calm before the storm, as if any minute there would be a deafening roar and something terrible would happen. It wouldn't have been the first time.

Carol longed to sleep in a bed again, thinking that after so many nights on the ground or on hard floors, even a prison mattress would probably feel heavenly. And yet, she fell back into her old habit of avoiding sleep. Her nightmares hadn't been as bad lately as they once had been, but she continued the practice of not sleeping until she couldn't avoid it any longer. She wondered if the fact that she didn't sleep until she was completely exhausted made a difference in whether the nightmares came or not, and she wasn't willing to risk it.

Sighing heavily, she stood quietly and stretched, her muscles protesting slightly after sitting in the chair for so long. She walked quietly out of the cell onto the long balcony along which so many other identical cells opened. It was strange, she'd never thought she'd be living in a _prison_, or that she'd be so happy about it, for that matter. _Life sure is full of surprises_, she thought for the thousandth time in the past few years.

She looked around at the moonlight streaming in through the high windows, illuminating the cellblock. With everyone asleep in their cells, the cellblock looked and felt abandoned. It gave Carol the feeling that she was there completely alone, even though she _knew_ that she wasn't. She hated that feeling, like she was the last person on Earth. She remembered that she'd felt that same way one night back on the interstate when Sophia had been missing, as she'd looked out over the graveyard of abandoned cars, their owners all long since dead and gone and not a living thing in sight. It was a horrible feeling. Not quite as startling as her nightmares, however, terrifying just the same. She clenched her hands into fists and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly and trying to calm down.

Daryl had slept fitfully for a few hours, but had been lying awake on his perch ever since. It was too early to go hunting, still completely dark outside but for the moonlight. He itched to move, but he had finally resigned himself to sitting up and cleaning his crossbow instead. Everything was quiet below him, and he liked that he could keep an eye on it all from there. Looking out for everyone, but remaining apart from them. As he sat there, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up and watched Carol walk out of her cell silently, padding into the swath of moonlight that fell from the windows high up on the wall opposite her cell. He wondered for a second what she was doing up, then realized that she was probably just avoiding sleep, as usual. They were in a new place, but she was the same person.

She took a few more steps forward to the railing, leaning lightly against it and looking down to the ground floor a few levels below. She was glad that she wasn't afraid of heights. The railing seemed sturdy enough, and she realized that it must have been made to withstand a lot more than her own weight. She imagined that everything in the prison had been made that way – to withstand the greatest possible punishment by many, many very strong, angry individuals – and she couldn't help but think that that building would probably still be standing long after everyone in her group – possibly everyone that was left on Earth, because surely there couldn't be _too_ many? – had perished. She shivered slightly at the thought, even though she wasn't cold.

She glanced up at the windows, leaning against the railing a little harder now that she had determined that it would hold her. She watched the moonlight coming in, and was reminded of standing on the porch, leaning against the railing at the Greene Family's farmhouse so many times the previous year. This prison catwalk sure was different from that farmhouse porch, and yet, here she stood in the same position. That world – the farm – already felt like a million years ago.

It seemed impossible to believe that she was the same person that she'd been back then. She'd been broken by Sophia's disappearance. Her only identity had been as a mother, and then suddenly, she wasn't even _that _anymore… then when the empty shell of Sophia had stumbled out of the barn… she shuddered at the thought. There had been her unintentional isolation from the group when they didn't know what to say to her, which she herself had compounded because she'd felt so lost. Besides having lost hope, she'd been defenseless, not yet having learned to either shoot or use a knife. She'd become useless, defenseless, and alone…

But no, that wasn't completely right. She'd _felt_ on the verge of being alone and broken, as if the very essence of what had made her who she was had been sucked from her body, and yet… Daryl had pulled her back from the brink of despair. He hadn't been able to fix anything that had been wrong – no one could – but he'd been there, and that was all that had mattered. Somehow they'd always understood each other. No, she was certainly a different person now. And yet, at moments like this, she felt her former, more fragile self, hovering just below the surface. It was the silence that did it, she reasoned. The silence was deafening.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she happened to glance up and she saw a slight movement, drawing her eyes to the platform that Daryl had named "the perch." He had claimed it for himself when they'd arrived, saying that he "wasn't sleepin in no cage," or something like that. She hadn't noticed him there when she'd come out of her cell, but now she saw that he was sitting up, watching her. Without a second thought she shot him a small smile, hoping that he couldn't see from where he was that she was blushing slightly, somehow afraid that he had heard her thoughts about him, innocent as they were. He just nodded in return. She went back to staring down over the balcony, almost immediately lost in her thoughts again… which was probably why she didn't hear him until he was standing beside her.

He watched her for a few minutes, as she looked down to the ground floor, then all around the silent cellblock. He didn't mind the silence, the isolated feeling of it, but he knew that she must be hating it. She didn't like being by herself like he did, that much he'd learned back at the farm. She was alone only because Sophia was gone, so it made perfect sense that she felt tortured by silence. As he watched her, she had stopped looking around and just stared straight into space, as if lost in thought. He wondered if that railing reminded her of the one back at Hershel's farm. She was standing kinda the same way that he'd seen her stand back on the porch of that big white house. His itch to move returned suddenly, and he'd only just formed the thought – S_hould I go down and see if she's okay?_ – when he was silently on his feet and padding down the stairs as quietly as he could.

She felt his presence before she saw him from the corner of her eye, which was the only reason she didn't jump at his sudden, silent arrival beside her. Daryl, being a hunter and tracker, always had to make an extra effort not to sneak up on people because he was used to moving so quietly. He stopped and leaned against the railing, imitating her posture, a few inches away on her left side. They'd stood that way many times back at the farm, and there was something comforting in the familiarity of it, despite the strangeness of their current surroundings.

"Y'alright?" he whispered, concern on his face. In the vast emptiness of the prison, all noises seemed to echo much louder than they were intended to be, so he kept his voice as low as he could while still audible to her, attempting not to wake anyone. "Can't sleep?"

She nodded, glancing over at him with a smile. "Yeah, I'm okay," she replied in the same quiet tone. "You know me, not gonna sleep if I don't have to."

"Ya gonna need to find a hobby er something, all this spare time on yer hands," he joked. "Keep yerself busy while everybody's sleepin."

"Yeah?" she whispered good-naturedly. "You have any suggestions?" Her smile reflected her amusement at Daryl Dixon telling her to find a hobby.

"Nah," he replied, shaking his head in pretend sadness, "Don't know nothing 'bout hobbies. Just know that some folks got 'em. Er… _had_ 'em." She chuckled then, and he joined in quietly. "Probly not many choices left today, though," he added. She nodded solemnly, comfortable silence falling between them Neither of them spoke for quite a while. They just stood beside each other, lost in their own thoughts.

"Do you think we'll be able to stay here?" she whispered suddenly, out of nowhere.

"Dunno. I reckon it depends what we find. Gotta clear more of the building first, and it's a _big_ fuckin place," he said matter of factly. The truth was, they were bound to discover walkers _somewhere _in the prison. It was simply a matter of where, when and how many. In a prison this size there would've been a _lot_ of inmates, and once the walkers had started getting in when everything started… well, suffice it to say that the place was made to be hard to get out of. The trick would be to clear as much of the building as they could, piece by piece, while keeping the parts that were cleared secure. Luckily for them, prisons were made to be secured in exactly that way, section by section. It seemed like they at least had a shot, but it would definitely not be easy, and it would undoubtedly be dangerous. There were so many unknowns.

She nodded at that, understanding what he _wasn't_ saying. It was true. She didn't like to think about it, but there had to be walkers in the building somewhere, probably lots of them… However, there were _definitely_ walkers outside the fences surrounding the prison, that much they could _see_, so to be inside a somewhat secure building with walkers in another section that they hadn't yet found seemed marginally safer, at least for now.

Carol stifled a yawn, then grimaced when she saw Daryl raise his eyebrows at her. She knew what was coming. "I don't want to," she pouted before he had a chance to tell her she should get some sleep.

"But ya gotta," he said gently. There was something about his gravely voice that she always found soothing, even when he was telling her something she didn't want to hear.

"What about you?" she asked, trying to turn the attention away from herself.

"What 'bout me?" he replied. _She really is as stubborn as I am_, he thought in amusement, and _not_ for the first time.

"_You_ should get some sleep," she told him quietly. "Rick's gonna have you hard at work again in the morning. You're probably gonna be clearing more of the building, and who _knows_ what else'll come up."

His head bobbed up and down in agreement. "Yup, seems likely." Neither of them made a move toward their beds, perfectly happy to stand where they were a little longer.

The minutes ticked by, and Carol yawned again. Daryl sighed slowly. "That's it, c'mon. Bedtime. _Go on,_" he told her reluctantly, sternly this time. Carol sighed too, smiling slightly despite the childish pout on her face. She turned around and leaned her back against the railing lightly, looking towards the cell where Lori was sleeping.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" she said. "And what about you?"

"Slept a bit, earlier. 'M gonna try again though, I guess. 'F I'm givin you such a hard time, suppose it's only fair."

"Good," she said simply. She pushed off the railing, taking a few steps then looking over her shoulder at him. "Good night, Daryl," she whispered.

"Night," he grumbled, nodding at her and shuffling back toward his perch.

She walked slowly toward the cell where Lori was sleeping soundly, managing to climb to the top bunk without waking her friend. She found that the bed felt even more comfortable than she'd expected, though in reality it wasn't anything exceptional. It was just far better than the hard ground she'd gotten used to. She pulled the thin blanket around her and before she had time to wonder whether she'd be able to sleep, she had drifted off.

Daryl climbed the stairs to his perch silently, feeling calmer than he had since he had woken up hours before. He lay down on his thin bedroll beside his newly cleaned crossbow, and despite thinking that he'd lay awake until sunrise, he too quickly fell back to sleep.


	36. Strong

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… and since I can't buy the franchise, it's lucky that I can keep the characters inside my head for free.**

**Author's Note: Thank you to my _wonderful _reviewers! There are a few of you who encourage me so consistently, it's like having my own cheerleaders. If only we could all have so much positive reinforcement in all parts of our lives! :) Here's one more chapter of cuteness before it all goes to hell... Hope you enjoy it... and feel free to let me know what you think! :)**

**Season 3, episode 1**

**The Prison, Morning**

Rick, Daryl, T-Dog and Hershel stood around a table in an empty room, looking through the stash of weapons that they'd managed to find that morning in the prison armory. Carol had been doing her best to comfort Lori, who was worried sick about the baby and needed to talk to someone who could calm her down. So Carol had gone to get Hershel, since he was the only one with real medical knowledge, hoping that he could say something that would ease Lori's mind. Hershel had headed up to the cell the women were sharing to talk to her, so Carol decided to make herself scarce. No doubt Lori would rather have a private conversation with him.

There was no cooking or washing up to be done at this hour, and everyone inside the prison walls seemed to be occupied with one thing or another, so she decided to see what was happening outside. Anything to take her mind of off what so many people that she cared about were about to do, which would mean putting themselves in danger yet again…

The weapons inventory had been completed just after Hershel had left with Carol. Rick had decided hopefully that whatever Carol had asked Hershel to do, it should be finished within fifteen minutes or so. She knew the importance of the task they were getting ready for, so he doubted that she would ask him to do anything that would take longer than that. "Let's meet back at that gate that accesses the inside of the building in fifteen minutes," Rick had told Daryl and T-Dog. "I'll let Glenn and Maggie know." The other two nodded. They grabbed the weapons they needed and headed out of the room, going their separate ways.

Daryl couldn't have explained why, but he had the urge to seek Carol out before they left on their "expedition." They had no idea how many walkers they'd encounter down there, how dangerous it really was… he supposed he just wanted to have a minute to talk with her beforehand, the way some people wanted a kiss for luck. **Not that he wanted one.** Just the accidental thought alone made him blush, and he was glad no one was around to see his face flush as he stalked through the empty hallway to find her.

No, it_ wasn't_ that he wanted a kiss. He flinched at just the _thought_. Not that a kiss from her would be a _bad_ thing, but… _STOP_, he told his jumbled emotions. It was just that he always felt calmer – albeit often more confused – in her presence. And it wasn't that he was _afraid_ of what they were about to do, exploring the inner parts of the prison… He'd be the first to say that he took the threat of walkers very seriously, but afraid of them? No, that didn't seem like the right word. Granted, there were times when fear did seem like the correct thing to feel where walkers were concerned… that night at the farm, for example… But in general he knew how to take care of himself around them. Would it be possible to get into a situation he couldn't handle? Of course. He could only fight off so many on his own. But afraid to clear the prison? No. Cautious might be a better word for how he felt.

He sighed internally at himself in frustration. Surely he didn't need to spend so much energy analyzing this. Really he just had the urge to go talk to her before they went to see what was down there. She was his friend, and he just felt like talking to her. Simple as that. That alone was an unfamiliar enough feeling to him, without introducing any other elements into it. He didn't_ need _people. He just _didn't_, never had. Until now, that is. He kinda liked it and hated it at the same time.

She had almost reached the stairs that led to the cellblock door, thinking she'd go outside and see if whoever was on watch in the guard tower wanted to be relieved, or check the fences around the perimeter, do _something_, when she heard footsteps behind her. She didn't have to turn around to know that they belonged to Daryl. Their weapons inventory must have broken up shortly after she'd come to retrieve Hershel. She wondered if Daryl's presence there was a coincidence, or if he'd been catching up to her on purpose. In a place this size, coincidences were possible but less likely…

It only took a few minutes before he found her. She was at the other end of the hall, heading for the stairs to the cellblock door that went to the outside yard. He fell in step behind her, almost catching up with her when she stopped and turned around, smiling at him. She stood and waited for him to catch up with her, looking glad to see him, if he wasn't mistaken. "Y'all leaving soon, to go down and… explore?" she asked hesitantly. Just the idea of the unknown down there and what might be waiting for them made her nervous. She knew that they had survived encounters with walkers many times since the camp outside Atlanta, however, they'd also lost many people to walkers along the way. It only took one mistake… Daryl's voice broke her out of her momentary flood of thoughts.

"Yeah, bout fifteen minutes," he replied. She nodded slightly, looking down to try to hide the nervousness she felt. He watched her bite her bottom lip unconsciously. _Is she worried?_ he wondered in surprise, realizing that it wouldn't be the first time. She worried about everyone in the group. It was just in her nature. But he wasn't used to people worrying about him, hadn't yet gotten used to _her _worrying about him, though she'd been doing it for some time now. He looked past, up her towards the cellblock door. "Y'on yer way somewhere?"

"Not really, just trying to give Lori and Hershel some privacy to talk. Nothing needs to be done in here right now. I figured I'd see what was happening in the yard, if anyone needed help out there." She only hesitated before adding, "Come get some fresh air with me." She tilted her head toward the cellblock door.

He nodded, and together they climbed the stairs and walked to the door. He pulled it open, then stepped back to hold it for her to go through. That hadn't happened to her very often in the past.  
Someone, besides an occasional stranger, holding a door open for her was almost foreign to her. She was fairly certain she would never get used to this small courtesy. She smiled awkwardly as she walked past him through the open door, whispering "thank you" and looking at the ground. He shook his head in a dismissive gesture, as if to say that he hadn't done anything worth being thanked for, as the two emerged out into the sunshine. They were happy to note that the days were slowly getting warmer as spring arrived, and the sun was a welcome change from the dark interior of the prison.

She was glad he was there. She preferred his company to the others' most of the time. And yet, she'd been trying not to think about how nervous she was about the group of them going down into the unknown depths of the prison, so of course it was hard _not _to think about it with one of them – the one she was _most_ worried about – walking beside her. She looked at the ground, willing herself to be calm. _One foot in front of the other._ But it wasn't working. She felt her heart pounding in her throat. They'd been through so much already, lost so many people in so many truly horrible ways. She just had a bad feeling about this foray into the unknown, one she couldn't explain.

She couldn't tell him not to go, she knew that. She wouldn't ask that of him, and she wouldn't expect him to stay while others put themselves at risk. He was always the first one to put himself in harm's way to help others. It was one of the first things that she had loved about him, back when he'd tried so hard to find Sophia. Still, it didn't mean she had to like it. She couldn't bring herself to speak as they walked out into the field.

They continued in the direction of the fences that held the walkers at bay, turning towards the middle of the field and walking parallel with the fence when they got close enough to start hearing their moans. Daryl couldn't help but notice that Carol didn't seem like herself as they walked in silence. She was staring at the ground in front of her, her face unreadable. He kept glancing at her, but it was as if she'd suddenly gotten lost in her own thoughts. His footsteps slowed until he stopped right there in the grass, and she went only a few steps beyond him before realizing he had stopped. She turned around and walked back, looking up at him only reluctantly.

They knew each other well enough by now that he didn't have to ask. " 'S gonna be fine," he told her.

She nodded quickly, looking back down. Inhaling slowly, she tried to steady her breathing and willed him not to notice, despite the fact that she _knew _he would. She couldn't, _wouldn't let herself_, lose control now. Not that she hadn't broken in front of him down plenty of times before, but she knew how uncomfortable it made him. Besides, she hated feeling weak. She didn't want to be that person anymore.

They heard someone calling their names, and looked back at the prison building, where they saw Rick waving at them from the door into the cellblock. "Gotta get back," Daryl mumbled, and Carol just nodded again. Daryl waved at Rick in acknowledgement, and Rick went back inside, letting the door close behind him. Neither of them moved. Daryl felt like he had to do something, but was momentarily paralyzed, unable to think what that something should be. While he wasn't exactly afraid, he could see that she _was _afraid on his behalf, afraid for all of them. He knew that nothing would reassure her except for their safe return, and he couldn't offer her any proof that that would happen, despite the fact that he believed it.

After another moment's hesitation, he cleared his throat. "Hey," he grumbled. She met him eyes, again reluctantly, and he could see that she was making an effort to smile. "You're not getting rid of me that easy. Alright?" She nodded, maintaining eye contact this time but not quite trusting herself to speak yet. He tentatively raised one of his hands and rested it lightly on her arm, just above her elbow, giving it a small squeeze before releasing it and dropping his hand again. To anyone else it would have been no big deal, but she knew better. That was a grand gesture from Daryl, and her smile became a genuine one. She tilted her head toward the building, and they started walking back slowly.

They walked the rest of the way back in silence, but it was a different silence than they'd shared on the way out. She would absolutely still worry about him, about all of them, but she couldn't allow her fear to control her. There was so much to be done, so many people here who needed her. She would be strong, because that was the person she _wanted_ to be. He wasn't afraid, not exactly, she could tell, so she'd somehow manage to be strong as well.

They climbed the steps and reached the door, and once again he stepped forward to pull it open and then stepped back to hold it for her. She shook her head at him, mumbling "thank you" and walking through to the other side. Without another word they made their way to the locked gate that marked the entrance to the unknown, the so far unexplored part of the prison. Her feeling of foreboding hadn't gone away, but she chose to ignore it for now. She stood silently and watched while they suited up in leftover prison riot gear. Daryl didn't, of course… he never even wore shirts with sleeves, so there was no way they were going to get him to put "that shit," as he had called it, on.

While Rick was breaking the news to a disappointed Carl that he had to stay behind, and Maggie and Beth embraced quickly, Daryl glanced up at Carol, who was standing beside the gate, watching him carefully. Their eyes met for a second, and her lips turned upward slightly into an almost-smile. He nodded at her once, as he usually did. There was nothing else to say, but as usual, no words were needed. Daryl filed through the gate, the others following him, and Carl locked the entrance after them.

And now the waiting began.


	37. Friends

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but that won't stop me from pretending I'm writing the episodes myself.**

**Season 3, episode 2**

**The Prison, Day**

Carol had been at Hershel's bedside for hours – she couldn't be sure just how many – so when Maggie asked for a moment alone with her father, Carol gladly took the opportunity to stretch her legs. She realized that she hadn't heard whether anything else had happened while the group had been down in the belly of the prison. There had only been time to think about Hershel when they'd arrived frantically back at the gate with him. She'd been around Glenn and Maggie since the group returned, of course, but it didn't seem like the time or place to ask them anything that wasn't absolutely necessary. She assumed that someone would have told her if anyone else had been hurt, but she wanted to be sure. She needed to see him with her own eyes in order to be sure.

She looked around, not seeing Rick, T-Dog or Daryl anywhere, and felt a combination of curiosity and concern. She hadn't found anyone who knew anything more than she did by the time she made it to the gate that they had rushed through earlier. Carl was now sitting nearby, having taken up guard duty at the entrance after leaving Hershel's cell. He was holding the keys in case someone needed to go in or out.

"Carl, have you seen your dad or Daryl or T-Dog lately?" Carol asked, trying not to sound worried.

"Not lately. After they came in with Hershel, Daryl was up here watching that door through there." He pointed through the bars to a doorway on the far side of the room, "and then these other guys came in. I guess they were prisoners who'd been locked down there somewhere. So my dad and T-Dog and Daryl were arguing with them about who was gonna stay in the prison and where. The prisoners tried to tell them we couldn't stay here, but my dad told them they could take another cell block or they could get the hell out of here."

Carol looked at him sternly, and Carl looked down, mumbling an apology for his language, then continued. "Uh, so anyway, I think my dad, T-Dog and Daryl went off to clear out one of the cellblocks for the prisoners to stay in, so they'll be separate from us." Carl shrugged.

She bit her lip and nodded, trying not to show just how concerned she was over this news. So, the group had gone down to the tombs and had almost lost one of their own members – and _could_ still lose him – and they'd turned around and gone right back into danger? There may not have been another choice, she knew, but that didn't mean she liked it any better. She didn't even realize that she'd started pacing until she heard Carl's voice interrupt her thoughts.

"Carol? You okay?" She stopped, looked up and nodded, offering him a weak smile. "Yes, sweetheart, I'm fine. I know they take care of themselves, and I know that we've been in these situations before… I'm _always_ concerned is all. About every one of us. I guess it's part of being a…" She choked on the last word. "A mom."

He could see her eyes watering, and he felt like somehow it was his fault, even though he'd only asked her if she was okay. He'd been watching her from the beginning, since that first day on the interstate, and he knew what a hard time she'd had and how far she had come. A lot of times people forgot he was there, because he was a kid, and it gave him a chance to watch people in the group more closely. By now, she was family to him, and he hated to see her upset.

"You were a great mom to her," he told her quietly. "And she loved you more than anything. She told me so." It had seemed like the right thing to say, but suddenly he began to doubt that when he saw tears welling in her eyes and then quickly falling down her cheeks. He was confused, because he thought he'd said something nice. "Oh my gosh, Carol, I'm sorry…" he stood up quickly, unsure of what to do next. He took a few steps toward where she'd stopped pacing and looked at her. She was like a mother to him, and in some ways she acted more like a mother than his own mom did.

She tried to stop herself from crying, but she hadn't been expecting Carl's words, and they'd caught her off guard. She walked the last few steps toward him and bent down a little, reached out and hugged the boy who was standing there, now _very _confused. She hadn't been the only one who'd lost Sophia, she knew, though she had felt that way at the time. She knew that Daryl had taken her death hard, but she often forgot that Carl and Sophia had also been close. She hugged him tightly for a moment, then relaxed and stepped back, wiping tears from her cheeks.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Carl. You're sweet to say something like that. I just… miss her." She sniffled a little, but she smiled at him.

"I do, too," Carl said simply. They smiled at each other sadly, and Carl sat back down in his chair. Carol walked to the bars, lacing her fingers through them and leaning her forehead against the cool metal. It was almost like she was willing herself to be able to see what was going on through the solid walls beyond the gate. They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Carl suddenly broke the silence.

"Carol, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, sweetheart," she replied, turning around to look at him, now leaning her back against the bars. Carl had a strange look on his face, and she wasn't quite sure she was going to like the question.

"What's up with you and Daryl?" He almost looked embarrassed to be asking, yet also extremely curious.

Carol felt herself blushing furiously, and she looked up toward the windows, that were just below the ceiling, and took a deep breath. She looked back down at Carl, who was watching her very closely. She wondered if she could explain it. She'd yet to be able to explain to _herself_ what was going on with Daryl. But she figured that she may as well try. After all, he was young. He didn't need a complicated explanation.

"Daryl and I are friends. Best friends, I guess you could say. We have a lot in common, things from our pasts that we went through separately, and that were really difficult, so we understand each other more than most people. It's rare to find a friend like that even once in your life, and if you do, you're very lucky. So… he's very special to me. We have a connection that you don't often find with another person… if any of that makes sense." She wondered if she'd done it justice with that answer… whatever _it _was between them.

Carl just nodded. "You know everyone can see it, right?" he asked simply. She just smiled at the boy. There was no point in acting surprised or denying anything, she supposed. She sighed slightly, wondering about the "it" he was talking about. What was it that they could all see, anyway?

She looked at him thoughtfully. "There's so many terrible things in this world. There always were, really, but there's even more of them now. So these days, _anything_ good that you can find in life, you have to hold onto it as tightly as you can. And you can't take it for granted, because you never know how long you have it for. That goes especially for special people. There's so many more dangers now, so many ways people can be taken away from you. Things aren't like they used to be, and they probably never will be again. But we keep trying. It's all we can do." She paused, wondering where in the world all of this was coming from. "I'm sorry, I don't know what possessed me. I don't normally give speeches like that."

He nodded at her solemnly. "You're right, though," he said quietly.

Carol smiled at him. Carl was growing up so fast, and he seemed to have bypassed a good chunk of his childhood out of necessity.

She suddenly realized how tired she was. "I should probably go lie down for a while, it's been a long day," she told him. "Thanks for keeping me company." Carl nodded at her, not completely unlike the way Daryl often did, and she smiled at him again as she turned to go.

She was going through the doorway that led to the rest of the cellblock when she heard him say "I'll let Daryl know you were looking for him."

Turning back to look at him, she called "Thank you, sweetheart," and then disappeared back into cellblock.

…

Hours later, Carol was sitting on the cold, hard floor outside of the cell she shared with Lori, her back against the wall, staring up at the sky through the high windows. There was no moon that night, and there was so little light that all she could see were shadows. It might have been unsettling, but she'd been sitting there for what felt like hours, and her eyes were pretty well adjusted to the dark by now. She'd laid down in her bunk, knowing that she needed to rest, before Lori had come back from keeping vigil at Hershel's bedside. When she came in, Lori had told her that Hershel had woken up, which was great news. She was so glad for Maggie and Beth, who hadn't lost their father after all. And as usual, when someone else got good news, her happiness for them was tinged with just a bit of sadness for herself.

Still, even with the relief of the good news about Hershel, she couldn't manage to fall asleep. She'd trained herself so well to fight sleep, that this time when she actually wanted to sleep, she couldn't make herself do it. She was exhausted after the past few days, but her mind was still swirling with thoughts. About Hershel. About the walker that she'd cut open out by the fence, trying to "practice" so she'd have the faintest idea how to deliver Lori's baby, due any day now. About living in the prison. About the dangers that lay waiting for them the more of the prison they explored… About Daryl.

She'd been tossing and turning in the bunk above Lori, and was afraid that she'd wake her with all of her movements. Finally she gave up and climbed down quietly, padding out into the hall and leaving Lori sleeping peacefully. The poor woman was so stressed, Carol thought, she definitely needed the rest.

She'd now been sitting on the cold, hard floor outside the cell for what felt like hours, and she finally decided that she'd had enough of sitting there. She got up walked to the far end of the balcony, then roamed up and down the length of it. She passed each cell, all of which had now be cleaned out the best they could, some occupied and some empty. When she got to the far end of the railing for the third time and turned around, she found herself looking directly at Daryl's perch… which was empty. Lori had told her when she'd come up to bed that the group had come back from clearing the other cell block just in time to see Hershel wake up. Lori hadn't mentioned anyone else having been injured or any other problems.

She wondered where he was, if he had maybe gone on watch. She walked back down to the other end of the balcony where the stairs went up again, and climbed up slowly. She'd left a pile of clean laundry at the end of his mattress, and they were gone, so he'd been there at some point in the last few hours. Beside the mattress was a pile of dirty clothes that was undoubtedly covered in all manner of things from today's adventures. She'd deal with that tomorrow.

She walked softly back down the stairs, then made her way out of the cellblock into the yard. She headed toward the guard tower and remembered too late that she would have been wise to grab her jacket, thin as it was. She just told herself to walk faster.

He'd heard the cellblock door open and then close from where he stood, which he thought was odd for that time of night. He'd offer one guess as to who it was, unless there was some sort of real emergency. He could just barely make out a shadow scurrying across the yard, and he could already tell that his one guess was right. He shook his head at her, running around out there without any light. He hoped that she at least had the sense to have her knife on her, and waited, leaning against the railing of the balcony, for her to make her way up the stairs into the tower.

He was a hard person to sneak up on, and she wasn't as well trained at moving quietly as he was, so she figured that if it was Daryl in the guard tower, that he'd seen her coming. She opened the door tentatively – this had become a habit for all of them, since you could never be sure what you'd find on the other side of a closed door – peering through cautiously before stepping all the way in. She saw him standing out along the edge by the railing, and simultaneously felt relief to actually see that he was okay and slightest bit of annoyance with him for making her worry.

She walked into the room at the top of the guard tower, but didn't go out onto the balcony. Instead, she stopped a few feet inside the doorway and crossed her arms across her chest. Daryl turned and looked back at her, confused by the combination of a look of relief on her face and her body language, which seemed to say that she was upset. Or maybe she was standing that way because she was cold? He'd be the last one to claim to understand women. He took a few steps towards her, so that he was almost in the doorway. "Y'alright?" he asked her.

She nodded, sighed, and her face broke into what he could only describe as a smile that also looked like a pout. "I'm glad _you're_ okay," she replied. "You had me a little worried."

Before she stopped to think about what she was doing, she walked slowly towards him and raised her arms up around his shoulders in a hug, resting her arms only ever so lightly against him. She knew that even though she'd moved slowly, she'd caught him off guard, but she hadn't been able to stop herself. Her relief that he was alright, especially after spending half the day covered in Hershel's blood, with the group's patriarch lying unconscious before her, had overpowered her. It wasn't a long hug, and she was already starting to pull back when she felt his hands move for the first time, hugging back gently, low on her back just for a few seconds, before they fell back to his sides.

She took a step back, really hoping she hadn't made him too uncomfortable. "Sorry," she said, smiling apologetically. "I know you don't like that kinda stuff." She watched him carefully, but he didn't look nearly as traumatized as she had expected.

He surprised her by smiling slightly. " 'S okay. Told ya it'd be fine."

A devilish smile came across her face as she realized that she may be able to get away with pushing just a little further. He saw it flash across her face and knew exactly what was about to happen but could do nothing to stop it as she added, "Just couldn't keep my hands of you." She tried hard to suppress a grin, but failed.

"Pfft," he mumbled, flustered as usual. "_STOP."_ Then they both laughed, and everything was back to normal. "So, you have a nightmare or somethin'?" Not that she needed a reason to come up and visit him on watch, but he was just curious. He hated to think of her having another nightmare.

"Nope, haven't been to sleep yet. First time in ages I actually _tried_ to go to sleep, and wouldn't you know I laid there wide away for what felt like hours," she sighed. "I was tossing and turning so much I was afraid I was going to wake up Lori, so I sat outside the cell for a while, just thinking… you know, _torturing myself_ a little," she grimaced, knowing it was the truth, and knowing that he knew it as well. "So then I paced up and down the walkway in front of the cells a few times, and since I hadn't seen you yet, I figured you were out here… so here I am," she finished, waving her hands as if describing something spectacular. "After all, I had to make sure you were okay after your big adventure."

He shook his head at her. " 'T's a busy night you've had," he observed wryly. She chuckled, knowing exactly how crazy it sounded.

"What can I say? Who says there's no nightlife at the end of the world?" They both chuckled again.

The sound of the cellblock door opening drew their attention to the prison building, and they saw a dark shape moving toward the tower. "Who's up next?" she asked him.

"Think it's Rick, 'less he switched with someone," Daryl replied. Within a few minutes they saw that it was indeed Rick who was next on watch, as he came in through the door at the top of the steps, greeting them sleepily.

"Hey Daryl. Hey Carol. You guys go on and get some sleep," Rick said, taking up the same position on the balcony that Daryl had been in when Carol had arrived. Daryl nodded at him and started towards the door.

"Good night, Rick," Carol said quietly, smiling at him before turning to follow Daryl down the stairs.

They walked back to the cellblock in comfortable silence. The air was just as cool as it had been earlier, but she was feeling so much better, having reassured herself that Daryl was alright, that she barely noticed. They walked up the metal stairs as quietly as they could, their feet clanging only slightly. Before Daryl started up the stairs to go up to the perch her turned to her and whispered, "You're goin to _sleep_ now, right? No more roamin round in the night? Cause ya need yer rest. Ya work too hard durin the day not to."

"Yes, Daryl, I'm going to bed now. And I could say the same for you. Get some rest," she whispered back to him. He nodded at her, as usual, and she just smiled and shook her head. "Good night, Daryl."

"Night."


	38. Faster

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… I only wish I'd thought of it first!**

**Season 3, episode 4 (No, I didn't skip one by accident. Episode 3 took place solely at Woodbury)**

**The Prison, Day**

It was one of those moments when things are going well for a split second – okay, not perfectly by any stretch of the imagination, but things had been looking up for once as they had settled into the prison, and they had felt like they had a semblance of control over what was going on around them. It was the first time that had happened in almost as long as they could remember.

Daryl, Glenn and Rick had been gathering firewood outside the outer fence, with the intention of getting as much as they could so that they could burn the last of the walker bodies. There'd been talk of burying them, but no one could stomach the thought of growing crops in soil that walkers had been buried in. Even if it wasn't dangerous, which they could never be sure of, of course, it was just downright disgusting.

As the three men came through the hole in the fence with their firewood, they dropped it on the ground and looked up the hill to see Hershel, on his crutches and up and about for the first time since his near death experience. Despite everything they had been through, despite how many people dear to them that they had lost and the grim reality that they faced every minute of every day, they allowed themselves that moment of happiness. The fact that the man who had become the patriarch of their group had recovered so well was nothing short of a miracle.

However, on this particular occasion the perfect moment preceded another moment, where the world seems to tip on its axis, and just as quickly as the perfect moment had come, it was gone. More exactly, their happy moment seemed to catch fire and explode before their eyes.

No one knew how walkers had gotten inside the yard, but suddenly Carl happened to turn his head and saw them, already nearly upon them. "Walkers!" he yelled, and in a flash the group had scattered in various directions. Most of them were now in danger just where they should have been the safest, in the yard just outside the cellblock, which had long since been cleared. Three of the men who were usually on the front line of the group's defenses were stranded at the other side of a wide yard, with multiple fences and locked gates in between them and the rest of their family. In short, it was a nightmare, but there was no waking up from it.

As Glenn stopped to tie the hole in the fence that he and the other two had just emerged through, so that it was safely closed again, Rick and Daryl took off running along the length of what they called the "dog run," a path lined on both sides by fences, as if the ground below them was on fire. There was simply no way for them to get to the others fast enough as they watched the horrific scene unfold before them, saw Beth trying to get Hershel to safety as the others began to fire on the advancing walkers.

The faster Daryl ran, the more he felt time slow down, almost to a crawl, to the point where he felt that he was moving in slow motion – the subject of some kind of cruel stop animation. No matter how hard he pushed his every muscle to go faster, faster, faster, there was no way to move fast _enough_. As he ran, he saw images float before his eyes… things that he _knew_ were memories, but that he saw before him as clearly as he felt the dirt beneath his feet and the crossbow gripped tightly in his hands.

The first thing that came to his mind was Carol, who he'd caught a glance of as she stood watching Hershel from over beside the cars with T-Dog just a moment before… Except now he saw her entering the guard tower through the door at the top of the stairs. It was the night when she'd shown up on his watch, the night after they'd cleared out the cellblock where they'd left Axel and Oscar after the other convicts had turned on them. It seemed like yesterday. _Had_ it been yesterday? Time was not something he could focus on right now. He saw her standing there, conflicted, relief at seeing him unhurt in her eyes, yet clearly angry with him, and then out of nowhere, she was hugging him. It had startled him, and yet… he'd liked it. He'd even admit to himself, but _only_ himself, that he hadn't wanted it to end despite how awkward he'd felt. She could be stubborn and frustrating at times, and she pushed his buttons like no one else… and yet, being near her made everything else in the world seem simple.

_Run faster_, he told himself._**You have to get to her.**_

Then suddenly, he could see her sitting on the guard rail on the side of the interstate, staring blankly into the trees and waiting, hoping, _praying_ for Sophia to come back. The blood pounded in his ears, and he couldn't hear anything happening around him but the rhythmic thumping sound beating in time with his heart. He felt as though he was swimming in molasses, but there was nothing he could do but continue to push through it. He focused on Carol as he continued to move.

He knew that what he was seeing wasn't real, but he couldn't help but gasp slightly as his vision suddenly changed to Carol at the CDC, in the control room, at that moment when they had all been about to die. She was clutching Sophia tightly, afraid for all of their lives because that asshole Jenner had decided to trap them in the building with him just before it was going to blow up.

He heard her voice shouting, "My daughter doesn't deserve to die like this."

_Sophia._ No, she hadn't deserved to die like that, and she certainly hadn't deserved to die the way she _had_ died. She hadn't deserved to die _at all. _None of them had, but her least of all.

He almost choked as he thought about that little girl who he'd never even really known. He'd _seen_ her, of course, he'd known _of_ her, had seen her with Carol, but he'd never really known her. It didn't matter, because he knew that she had been worth all of the effort he'd put into trying to find her. Worth _more_ than what he'd done, so much more. No one who'd been raised by Carol could possibly have been anything other than a pure soul, despite the nightmare that her father had made them live through… that much he knew. He wished for the thousandth time that he had done more, and nearly lost his balance as he ran and he physically felt the guilt stab at him. _He hadn't saved her_. No, it was worse than not saving her. He had _failed _her_. _Never in his life had he felt like as much of a failure as he had at the moment that Sophia had stepped out of the barn.

_Run faster,_ he told himself, _**and save her mother from the same fate**_.

Without warning, he saw Carol hold a gun straight out in front of her, aim at the target, and fire. It was just target practice, there was no real danger that day, but he saw the satisfaction and delight that lit up her face as she hit her target squarely, making the small tin can fall off the wooden fence it had been sitting on. He'd been standing off to the side watching her with satisfaction, since she didn't really need help with how to stand or how to aim anymore – though he had to admit that teaching her those things hadn't been entirely unpleasant… Being that close to her had been confusingly… what was the word for it, anyway? Their proximity that first day of lessons had left him both calm and exhilarated at the same time. _Was _there a word for that feeling? When he thought about it, it was similar to how it felt to be around her in general, just more intensely, maybe because they'd been so much closer?

_Just run faster_, he told himself.

By now he felt his muscles burning from pushing them so hard, and yet still he felt as though he was running underwater. He focused on Rick in front of him for a matter of seconds before his mind was flashing elsewhere again. That night at the farm. He'd been sitting on his motorcycle, watching the barn burn to the ground in the distance, and with it his hopes had almost gone up in smoke as well. The home that they'd hoped would be their refuge was now overrun. They had known that they couldn't stay there forever, and yet… it had been the most peaceful place they had found since the Turn. He hadn't known who from the group was alive and who wasn't, and he'd tried to tell himself that none of it mattered.

He'd been about to drive away into the night and accept the fact that he was alone again, just when he'd gotten used to being part of the group… _because she had convinced him to _be… when he heard her scream. He was surprised to realize just how glad he was to see her alive, and he'd driven to her rescue, getting to her only seconds before the walkers who were only a few feet behind her. He hadn't recognized the feeling at the time, but looking back, he realized that what he'd felt when he'd seen her was relief. Relief to find her, and to be the one to save her. That time he _hadn't_ failed, thank goodness.

_Run faster_, he told himself, _**and save her again**__._

Rick was at the gate, fumbling with the keys as he and Glenn caught up with him. They panted heavily and cursed the lock that was keeping them on the wrong side of the gate while their friends – _no, their family _– were being attacked. After a few agonizing seconds, the gate was finally unlocked and the men ran through, only for Rick to have to fumble with another lock only a few steps later. The seconds that it took to get through that gate as well felt like hours, before they were able to continue running toward the others. As Daryl began to run again, the slow motion visions began swimming before his eyes once again almost immediately.

It was a night early in the winter when they'd been sitting in the darkness together on the front porch of… where were they? He couldn't tell, couldn't remember. One of many, many different random houses where the group had spent the night over their time on the road. He was sitting on the steps of the front porch on watch, so of course she had shown up, bringing him a plate of whatever she had fixed the group for dinner and sitting with him until his shift ended, as she nearly always did. Well, not _quite_ until his shift ended. On that particular night she'd been very sleepy after a particularly hard day, and as they'd sat quietly looking out into the night, as they usually did, she'd nearly nodded off to sleep sitting up, accidentally leaning her head against his shoulder.

"Oh, sorry," she'd mumbled awkwardly as she realized that her head had dropped onto his shoulder. She had pulled herself back up quickly, suddenly sitting rigidly beside him. He knew that it wasn't because she herself was uncomfortable, but because she knew that _he _was uncomfortable with physical contact, and she didn't want to invade his personal space.

"S'okay," he'd mumbled back. She'd gotten up shortly after that, saying she was going to bed so she didn't end up falling asleep on him again. _I should have said something else. Should have told her that I didn't mind_. Because though he'd been startled by her head on his shoulder at first, he hadn't minded it, not really.

_Run faster_, he told himself, _**and **_**tell her**_** next time**__._

Speaking of telling her things… The knot in his stomach tightened noticeably when he thought back with regret to the terrible things he'd said to her, both before and after Sophia had come out of the barn. At the stable, then even worse, at his campsite…

"_Just leave me be!"_

"_Stupid bitch."_

"_If you spent half your time minding daughter's business instead of sticking your nose in everybody else's, she'd still be alive!"_

"_You don't know jack. You're afraid. You're afraid cause you're all alone. You got no husband, no daughter. You don't know what to do with yourself. You ain't my problem! Sophia wasn't mine! All you had to do was keep an eye on her!"_

It was as if he had thought that by hurting her, he would somehow be less angry. He didn't remember why in the world he'd thought that, but it certainly hadn't happened. If anything, he'd ended up even angrier, and had felt guilty to boot.

He was yanked into the present by the feeling of his lungs burning from exertion, and he almost choked on the anger and frustration that he felt with himself at this last memory. She hadn't deserved any of it. She had deserved so much better, and no matter that they'd fixed things between them since then… he would _always_ regret saying those things to her… _especially_ if he didn't get to see her again. He couldn't even accept that as a possibility, and yet he knew that it was a very real one.

_Run faster_, he told himself. _**Run faster.**_

Rick finally got the last gate unlocked and the three men arrived at the spot in the yard where the others had been standing when the walkers appeared, firing on the walkers that were still in the vicinity. They found only Hershel and Beth still there, safe behind a chain link gate at the top of one of the stairwells leading to a door to the inside of the prison. Rick stopped to ask Hershel and Beth about the others while Daryl and Glenn took care of the last walkers. Daryl's heart pounded in his chest as he fought to catch his breath, both from running and from anxiety.

_Please,_ he thought, _don't let it be too late_. _It can't be too late. _There was far too much left to say.


	39. Helpless

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… at the moment, anyway… :)**

**Author's Note: I apologize for the despair of this chapter now, though I don't think it comes as a surprise to any of you. Even knowing that neither of them are dead or hurt, even being the one **_**writing**_** this chapter, it gave me both chills and tears in my eyes at various points, so if that is any indication of how it'll go for you as a reader… well, don't say I didn't warn you. Despite the emotional roller coaster, I hope you enjoy it. :)**

**Season 3, episode 4 and 5**

**The Prison, Day**

It was some kind of nightmare. It had to be, because there was a walker biting T-Dog on the shoulder as he struggled to lock the gate to stop the rest of them from getting to their side. This couldn't be real. It _couldn't_.

"NO!" Carol shrieked in terror as she watched it happen. He'd been closing the gate to _save them_, and now it was going to cost him his life. She couldn't even process the horror of that second, and there was no time to, because there were still walkers on their side of the gate with them – though not nearly as many – and they had to get inside, away from them. The walkers were only a few steps behind them as she narrowly escaped through a door to the inside, with T-Dog following behind her.

Having been in these interior maze-like halls of the prison before, T-Dog he was pretty sure he could find his way back to their cellblock. He limped slowly along with his arm over Carol's shoulders. She wondered at the fact that despite everything, he didn't seem to be afraid. When she suggested that he should rest, his response surprised her. "This is God's plan. He'll take care of me. Always has. He's gonna help me lead you out of these tunnels," he told her. She couldn't argue with him… there just wasn't time. Besides, how could she argue with him now, when he had so little time left? They both knew all too well that there was nothing that could save him now, and it was only a matter of time… a very short amount of time, most likely. There was_ never_ enough time.

Suddenly, as they rounded a corner, two walkers came around the corner straight in front of them. Carol instinctively tried to turn around and go back, but T-Dog stopped her, insisting that they were close. Before she could stop him, he rushed forward and pinned the two walkers against the wall straight in front of them, screaming at her to go as the walkers began snapping at his flesh. He'd already been bitten, and she saw this gesture for what it was – he knew he was going to die, and this was him saving her.

Realizing that there was nothing she could do for him, and not wanting his sacrifice to be in vain, Carol ran past them around the corner, into darkness with only a gun with no ammunition. No flashlight. Did she have her knife? Yes, she reminded herself. But still… _I'm not going to make it. _She shuddered at the thought, and pushed it from her mind. There was no time for pity or doubt or she really _wouldn't_ make it. The important thing now was to _try_.

Thankfully, there were shafts of light filtering randomly down into the hallways at odd angles thanks to tiny windows placed haphazardly by the ceiling, so she was not in complete darkness. Still, it was difficult to navigate based on that light alone. She crept down one dark corridor after another, turned one corner, another, a third, a fourth… and realized that she had no idea where she as going. T-Dog said she was close, but T-Dog had known where to go. For all she knew, she could have been going in the wrong direction since she'd left him behind. _Left him behind_. She tried to ignore the sting of those words. _How could she have left him behind?_ She knew that there had been no other choice, and yet still… it seemed so wrong, such a horrible way for him to have to die.

She heard Daryl's voice saying "_Focus, _woman," and her breath caught in her throat as she felt a twinge in her chest. _No, I can't think about him now,_ she told herself. _There may be time for self-pity for losing Daryl and self-loathing for leaving T-Dog later. But __**only**__ if you're lucky._

She had been wandering through the twisting corridors for quite a while now, several times changing course when she heard walkers approaching. By now she knew how to confidently deal with walkers, of course, but she had no way to know how many she would run into at once, and she was only one person. Better to avoid them if at all possible. It seemed like she'd been doing this for hours, though there was no real way to judge time. The only thing that allowed her to keep going when exhaustion should long ago have forced her to slow down and rest was the adrenaline pumping through her and the knowledge that stopping now would probably mean death.

Suddenly she rounded a corner and stopped short, her hand flying to her mouth in horror. It was the same corner where she had left T-Dog, where he'd had two walkers pinned up against the wall and had screamed at her to run past. The walkers were no longer there, nor was T-Dog. Rather, _some_ of him was gone. The two walkers, and possibly others, it was impossible to tell, had begun to devour him. She felt the bile rising from her stomach and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Turning her head to the side and bending over involuntarily, she threw up in the corner, trying her best at least to vomit quietly. There wasn't much in her stomach, so it didn't take her long to finish. She feebly wiped her mouth with the back of a dirty hand and staggered forward, tears already falling down her cheeks all over again.

Not only could she just not bear to look at what remained of T-Dog – that was horrible enough on its own – but besides that, the realization dawned on her that she had just ended up in the same place where she'd started, making a feeling of panic rise in her chest. She'd gone in a circle. _I'm never going to get out of here_, her thoughts screamed inside her head_._ She beat them back. _I have to try_, she argued back at herself. _I can't give up._ And yet… giving up seemed so much easier, and she was _so tired_. _**No**__,_ she told herself firmly. _That's not you, and you know it. Besides, the others will be looking for you._

The others. _Daryl_. Suddenly she couldn't push the thought of him away any longer.

She felt an ache so strong it nearly knocked her down, as she thought about her family, about him. About never seeing him again. About what it would do to him if she didn't manage to find her way out of this miserable, hellish maze. For a second, it was hard to breathe, and she put her hand on the wall to steady herself, leaning hard against it for support. _Deep breaths,_ she told herself. _It's not over yet. You've been through worse, you'll get through this too._ Had she been through worse? She wasn't sure that she actually had, but at that moment, it didn't matter. Whether she had or she hadn't, she chose to believe that she had. She chose to hold on to hope for as long as she could. She wasn't the victim she had once been.

She imagined that if the others had survived (she tried not to dwell on the "if" in that part of the sentence), that eventually they would come looking for her. She knew that Daryl would, even if no one else did. She had nothing to leave behind as a signal, a sign, except… _her scarf._ She unwound the scarf from her head slowly, knowing that leaving it would send a message that they – that _he – _was _not_ guaranteed to interpret correctly. She knew that the message it conveyed could be either that she was alive, or that she was dead… but she had no choice. She placed it on the ground beside what was left of T-Dog, tears in her eyes once again for her friend, and walked away as steadily as she could, blinking away the tears as resolutely as she could. _Keep going._

She continued to wander for what felt like days. She tried to choose a different path than she had the last time around, since it had only gotten her back to where she started, but it was so dark, and the halls all looked identical, and it was nearly impossible to know where she was, where she had already been, or where she was going. She moved as quietly as she could, as carefully around corners as possible, doubling back several times to avoid the familiar moan of walkers… it was like a never ending hell, some sort of horrible test that you'd read about in Greek legends. She tried not to think, only to listen and to move.

Eventually though, she realized that even the adrenaline that had been keeping her moving was seeping out of her. She'd killed a few walkers, each of which she'd been lucky enough to stumble upon individually, and had been able to deal with them one on one. There was no way to know how long she'd been down there, but the light filtering in from outside was beginning to fade, and she knew that without that light the tunnel-like hallways would be nearly impossible to navigate. Yes, the walkers made noise, but she couldn't either run from them or overtake them if she couldn't _see_. She was distracted with worry over the fading light when she rounded a corner, not taking the care that she usually did to move slowly and check that the next hallway was clear before rounding the corner completely.

Suddenly, she was face to face with a walker who'd been standing quietly, leaning against the wall and not making a sound. Thankfully she had her knife in her hand, because she had only a split second in which to react before the walker would have had its teeth in her. The surprise of finding the walker so close to her made her drive her blade into its neck. She'd moved too fast and missed the skull as the walker had squirmed. However she had done it, once the knife went in she could not get it to come back out. She pulled as hard as she could for several minutes, but to no avail.

Finally she decided that she didn't have the strength to pull anymore. She let go of the knife, and the walker's body fell to the floor with a loud _thud_. She knew he wasn't completely "dead," because she'd only stabbed him in the neck, but he wasn't after her, so she didn't care. She sadly realized that she didn't have the energy to _fight _anymore. With a sigh, she turned around and saw a door on the far wall of the hallway. She walked to it and turned the knob, pushing with what little strength she had left. It was a heavy door, and it moved slowly, so she threw the rest of her weight behind it, and gradually it opened. She peered through the opening, finding that the small room appeared empty. This would have to do for now. She couldn't walk anymore, and staying out in the open hallway was suicide, as walkers would eventually find her. She had to rest.

With a sigh she pushed through the doorway into the small room, collapsing against the wall, making sure the door closed behind her before she allowed her eyes to close. She choked back a sob as she realized that while this room might be safe from walkers, it would probably also be impossible for anyone else to find her here. Daryl was a tracker, but in these hallways it was doubtful that she had left any tracks for him to follow.

She now allowed herself the self-pity that she had refused to indulge in earlier, and tears rolled down her face as she felt the pain of knowing that she _wasn't_ going to make it out of this alive. That she _wasn't_ going to see her family again. That she wasn't going to see _him_ again. It was too much. It wasn't fair. They'd already been through so much, both individually and together, and had watched so many of them die horrible deaths. Her biggest fear since she had lost Sophia had been ending up alone, and now she was going to _die_ alone. It was more horrible than any death she could imagine, and she couldn't stop the tears that were falling down her cheeks, so she didn't even try. She just allowed them to flow silently, feeling sure that they would never stop. That feeling of helplessness, of being utterly and completely alone, was the last thing she remembered before she passed out.

…

Daryl, Rick and Oscar roamed the hallways of the prison, looking for the others. They'd split off from Glenn and Axel to cover more ground. It was slow going through the dark corridors, even with flashlights. There was no telling who or what they would encounter, and they could only hope to find their friends… _alive_. They were quiet out of necessity – any noise could draw walkers. There was no telling how long their search was going to take, and they were all anxious, especially having been attacked in the generator room. At least they'd been able to turn off the alarms that had echoed loudly throughout the entire prison.

There was no way to tell how long they'd been wandering the tunnels when they came across it. Nothing could have prepared them for the sight in front of them as they rounded a corner and saw two walkers bent over, feeding… Rick shot the two walkers in the head and they got closer, not wanting to know, but knowing that they had to… It was T-Dog, or what _had been_ T-Dog. Beside what was left of his remains, which was almost nothing by now, Daryl saw a familiar cloth, one that made his heart lurch as he bent to pick it up, not wanting to believe that it was here between his fingers. _Carol's scarf._

Daryl had never been one for emotional outbursts. On the contrary, keeping his feelings to himself and venting them out in private was pretty much his specialty. Still, he had just begun learning to process his feelings differently – to accept them rather than just react to any change in emotion with anger, as he had all his life – as he had gotten to know Carol. There was a split second, as he stood staring at the cloth he held, when his vision went dark and he felt like he might fall to the ground then and there, but he knew that this was not the time or place. He could not afford to be devastated now, there was too much at stake. He pushed the feelings back, settling them into a dull ache in the pit of his stomach and a buzzing in his head, telling himself that later, _later_ he would let himself process it. It couldn't be now. It just couldn't.

…

After they'd met back up with Glenn and Axel, and after they'd gotten back to the courtyard and discovered that Lori hadn't made it, but that Carl, Maggie and Lori's baby _had_, and after he and Maggie had gone on a run to a daycare and found supplies to feed Little Ass Kicker, as he'd called her… after all that, Daryl had finally been able to head out to the woods.

Sure, there were walkers outside the fences of the prison, but just then, he didn't give a fuck. What did it matter, anyway? He tied up the hole in the fence after himself and as he passed the tree line into the woods, he immediately felt his hold on his emotions begin to crumble. He knew that he couldn't afford to let go completely. He had to have his guard up at all times out here… and yet as he stood in front of the trunk of a tree that was at least twice as big around as he was, he let himself lose control just a little. He kicked the tree as hard as he could, pain instantly shooting up his leg, up his spine, through his entire body. As much as it hurt, he almost liked it. The physical pain was so much easier to endure than the emotional pain he was feeling, and it took his mind off of the pain in his chest for just a second, just long enough.

Of course, the hollow ache in his chest came right back again as soon as the pain from kicking the tree subsided, so he did it again, this time with his other foot. Again, the same almost pleasant distraction from the pain in his chest at the cost of the pain in the rest of his body. _This_ was the reason that he had hardened himself against emotions all of his life. Because early on his father and Merle had taught him one lesson: that being "soft" as they'd called it, caused nothing but pain. Sure, they'd been the ones inflicting the pain, and doing it on purpose, but no matter. He'd managed to let go of that mentality since Carol had convinced him to join the group – okay, maybe not completely let go of it, but enough to start processing the world around him the way other people did, using feelings besides solely anger. He'd even liked it, the way he had let himself change around her. But this…?

_This was agony._

He knew that he should be looking for something to shoot out here in the trees, not just walkers but also some kind of game to bring back as food. As soon as he'd thought that, of course, his next thought was to imagine bringing it back and handing it to…

_Carol._ She was the one he always brought the food back to.

He sank to the forest floor on his knees. He was not going to make it. How could he? Every single goddamn thing he did or thought reminded him of her. Their connection had always been so simple, so comforting, so… so what? How to even describe it? He didn't have a frame of reference, nothing to compare it to. She was the first friend he'd ever had. Incredible as that may have sounded considering how many years he'd been alive before he met her, it was true. He'd since come to consider the other group members friends – family – but she was the first one, and by far the best one. As awkward as things sometimes were between them, he trusted her with his life, and she had saved it more than once, just as he had saved hers. Not in the same ways, maybe, but that didn't matter. More often than not, she'd saved him _from himself_.

_Who was going to save him now?_

He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the forest. While he knew it wasn't the wisest move out here, he couldn't make himself care just then. He felt almost as though he couldn't breathe, and he was shaking all over. He couldn't take this. _He couldn't._ He stood back up angrily and stomped through the underbrush, wanting desperately to shoot something, be it walker or game. He'd tromped along as quietly as he could make himself, for maybe ten minutes when he came to a dead stop. His breath caught in his throat and he found that his feet were rooted to the ground where he stood. He wanted desperately to leave that spot, _not_ to see the sight that was before his eyes, and yet, he couldn't make himself move.

Straight ahead of him stood a bush full of Cherokee Roses. He thought back to the ones he'd found by the abandoned farmhouse when he'd been looking for Sophia. How he'd brought one back for Carol in a beer bottle vase, and had told her the story of the Native American mothers… he couldn't even finish the thought. It was just too painful now. He took a deep breath and exhaled, hearing the air leave his mouth shaking. He felt tears in the corners of his eyes – _Tears? Goddammit! _he thought angrily – and walked a few steps to the nearest tree, kicking it as he had the first one again, for good measure. He felt the same physical pain, but found that it didn't do anything to dull the ache in his chest this time. He gulped the forest air into his lungs again, but to no avail. Nothing worked to calm him down so he stood still in that spot until he could think straight again.

He had no idea how long it was before he could move again. Slowly, as if he were the slightest bit frightened to do so, he walked back toward the bush of white flowers. He walked around it in a circle until he found the largest of the Cherokee Roses, reached down and pulled the flower, along with the last inch or so of branch that it was growing off of, from the plant. He held it in front of him for several minutes, willing all of this to be some sort of terrible, twisted nightmare. He stared at the flower as if it were trying to communicate with him, as if he were willing it to speak to him, to tell him that there had been a mistake, that she wasn't really dead… but of course, no such reassurance could come from a flower. Eventually he placed it in the inside pocket of his leather vest, took one more look at the bush where the flowers grew, turned and walked slowly away. There was nothing else he _could_ do.

It was dawn when he finally emerged from the woods. He knew that the others would have been wondering about his safety, but when it came down to it, he didn't really care. He knew, or he was pretty sure, that they would understand. He and Carol had always been close, and he figured that by now that fact wasn't lost on the others, nosy shits that they could be sometimes.

He headed straight to the edge of the field where three graves were neatly arranged beside each other. Lori's. T-Dog's. …and hers. As he approached, he noticed the sky, which was a mix of yellows and oranges, already bright despite the early hour. _She would have loved that sunrise_, he thought. They'd watched their share of sunrises and sunsets together, and he shivered with a chill that ran through him, completely unrelated to the weather, as he recognized helplessly that there wouldn't be any more. Any more sunsets, any more sunrises, any more shared watch shifts, any more meals cooked by her, any more of her jokes, any more… anything. Nothing. Ever.

_It was too much. _

He felt the walls going back up within himself, the ones that had come down only so very gradually and only because of her. Another deep breath, and he reached into the pocket inside his leather vest and took out the white flower, the Cherokee Rose, that he'd put there not so long ago. He looked at it, feeling his heart break yet again, if that was even possible, as he laid it in the dirt on her grave. He tucked it in the center where small rocks had been arranged in a "C" shape. He pushed the dirt up around it, trying to anchor it to the ground to protect it from the wind, urging it to grow in that very spot. It would have been so fitting.

To anyone watching him, he appeared to be the picture of calm. The only time his face almost betrayed him was when he touched the cross made of sticks tied together with string before he stood up again. As his fingers touched the cross, there was something in his face for only a second or so that reflected just how much he had cared for the woman who the grave belonged to. Maybe no one else would have noticed, had anyone been there to watch. No one, that is, except Carol. _She would've noticed_, he thought sadly as he stood up. There was nothing else left to do, so he walked slowly back to the prison, to the others, to a life without her.


	40. Alive

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but when I can inject extra cuteness into it, I don't even care. Like right now.**

**Author's Note: I'm sorry if I went overboard on the cuteness in this chapter. After multiple chapters of nothing but angst and heartbreak, I needed it as much as they did. No, I take it back… I'm **_**not**_** sorry, not even a little bit. I love how this chapter came out, though I admit it is probably just fluff. If I could have justified more cuteness I totally would've written it… but that's the problem with sticking with the show, I guess, I have to make it match up. And really, I do love these characters as they are on the show… but I like to think this was what happened during the "missing" time that they didn't show us between scenes (because Daryl, come on, I wanted more of a reaction to seeing Carol after you had thought she was **_**dead**_**!). Anyway, enjoy! (And please review, if you feel so inclined!) :)**

**Season 3, episodes 6 and 7**

**The Prison, Day**

Daryl hadn't allowed himself to hope that Carol would have been alive. He had found her scarf on the ground and then her knife stuck in a walker's neck, down there in the tombs, abandoned… There was no _way_ she could have survived without her _knife_… He would never forget how much it had hurt when he'd been so sure that Sophia had been alive until the very end, only to have to discover that she wasn't. In some ways he felt like he'd taken it even harder than Carol had, because she herself had lost hope as the search had gone on. No, he couldn't go through that agony again, especially not without _her_. How was he going to go through _anything_ without her? He couldn't even think about it, the agony was too much.

He wasn't even sure how long he'd been sitting down in the tombs by himself that day. It hadn't been his first trip down there to hide away from the others since Carol had disappeared. They understood his need for space. Daryl had _always_ needed space, though he'd gradually needed less as he'd become more a part of the group. They didn't hassle him about going down there alone, despite it not being one hundred percent safe, because they knew that he was completely devastated by Carol's death, and that it was going to take him a very long time to recover, if he was ever able to at all.

Except that she _had_ survived. He tried to bite back the thought that if he'd taken just a little longer to find her, it might have been too late. Even when he did find her there in that small room that she had somehow managed to get herself into, he hadn't been convinced that he'd made it in time. All he could think as he carried her back to the cellblock was that for once in his life, he had witnessed a genuine miracle. It was a miracle that she had survived.

He walked as quickly back to the cellblock as he could, while being gentle not to jostle her in his arms. She felt so light – much _too_ light – against him. None of them had been well fed in as long as they could remember, but her time trapped down in the tombs had made things worse. _How long had it been_? He couldn't even think straight just then. The only thing he knew was that somehow, some way, he was holding her and she was _alive_. That was the _only_ thing that mattered to him whatsoever at that moment.

The walk back to the cellblock felt like it took forever, though really it was just because he was so anxious to get her back there. She needed water, that much was obvious. That was probably her most urgent need. He'd need to check her for bites, of course. It was difficult to think about that task just then. He couldn't even consider the thought that he could lose her all over again. No, just the idea of having to lose her again nearly made his knees give out on him, and he came close to stumbling. He closed his eyes for a second and paused, shifting his arms slightly under her to get a firmer grip as he leaned against the wall for support. He wouldn't even consider it. Not unless it became unavoidable.

After what felt like an eternity, Daryl finally got her back to Cellblock C, where he chose one of the first floor cells that wasn't being used. He pulled her closer to him in order to set her onto the lower bunk without hitting her head or his on the metal frame of the top bunk. He felt her hold on just a little tighter to him as momentum took her downward toward the mattress, whether to steady herself against the feeling of falling or just to hold on tighter to him, he wasn't sure. Her grip was relatively weak in her condition, and he could have easily pulled free if he'd tried. But when he set her down on the mattress, he didn't immediately try to move away. He slid his hand out from under her knees, then turned himself to face her directly, his now free hand coming to rest on the bed beside her. She was still weakly clinging to his neck, not letting herself relax her head against the mattress.

"Y'alright?" he asked softly. It was the first word he'd uttered to her, he realized, since he found her. He'd said _so many _others, but all in his head. She gave the tiniest hint of a smile, which he took as a yes. He put his free hand behind her head to support it, like you would do for an infant, and said "I need to get ya some water from right over there," he leaned his head to the side to indicate the other side of the room, where several water bottles sat on the floor. "Can ya lay back fer a second? Not leavin ya, I swear," he promised, looking into her eyes. She slowly released her hold on him and relaxed against the hand that he'd placed behind her head, which he slowly lowered to the bed.

He got up gently, not wanting to jostle her, grabbed all three water bottles and was back at her side in seconds. He twisted the cap off of the first water bottle, then set it down on the floor when he realized that she needed help to sit back up. He got up and shifted to sit himself on the very edge of the mattress at the end of the bed beside her, so that he could slide his left arm around her back under her shoulders and pull her so that she was half sitting up, leaning heavily against him. He picked up the water bottle again in his right hand, holding it up gently to her lips. Her left hand came up to try to hold the bottle as well, though he kept his fingers securely around it, pretty sure that she wouldn't be able to hold it alone in her weakened condition. She drank very slowly, and when she finally relaxed back into him he held up the bottle to see how much of it she'd actually had. Only about a third. _Okay, well, don't wanna shock her system and go too fast_, he thought to himself, _better give her a few minutes to rest._

He looked down at her again and tried to wrap his mind around the fact that she was there, and she was _alive_. That he wasn't dreaming… or at least, he didn't think so. That would have been the cruelest dream he'd ever had, but he was fairly sure this was real. He saw her eyes start to close and he nudged her slightly. "Hey, don't fall asleep yet, okay? Ya need ta have some more water first. Gotta get some fluids in ya. Ya gotta be really dehydrated after bein down there so long." Her eyelids fluttered back open and she smiled, a slightly bigger one than she had before, which he took as a good sign.

"Okay," she whispered, and pushed herself up again. They held the water bottle the same way again, and she slowly drank more water. It was only then that either of them thought to wonder where the others were. The cellblock was unusually quiet. No one else was around at all. Daryl didn't know how long he'd been down in the tombs before bringing Carol back up, so he had no idea how long it had been since the others had been there. He told himself that he wasn't going to worry about it at just that moment. He didn't hear any yelling or sounds of fighting or gunfire, so he chose to believe that everyone was fine. From the light coming in through the windows it appeared to be a sunny day, so decided that they must be outside doing something that allowed them to enjoy the sunshine. He knew for sure that the inside of the cell block had never looked brighter than it did just then, but he also knew that had nothing to do with the sun in the sky.

After they'd repeated the water drinking enough times for Carol to have consumed a bottle and a half, Daryl swore he saw a little of the color returning to her face. She had closed her eyes again, but Daryl could both see and, from the way she was leaning on him, also feel her breathing, which had become less shallow since they'd arrived back at the cellblock. He put the cap on the water bottle and set it down on the floor, shifting his weight as he turned to change positions. As soon as he did, he felt her tense, and her eyes fluttered open again, panic on her face. He just smiled calmly at her, gently easing her head back down on the mattress and clasping one of his hands in one of hers. With his other hand he pulled the chair that was against the wall to the edge of the bed, then shifted himself onto it. He noted with amusement the slight scowl on her face that had only appeared after he'd moved.

"What?" he asked gently. "No good?" She shook her head ever so slightly. He smiled and lifted himself off the chair, pushing it back against the wall and kneeling on the floor beside the bed. In his right hand he still clasped her hand. He laid his left forearm down along the edge of the bed and rested his chin against it, eyes on hers, then watched with amusement as she rolled slowly over to face him. She brought her face as close to his as she could, keeping hold of his hand and pulling it closer to her as she turned. He smiled and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. _This had to be a dream_. _There was no way it was real. There was no way something this good had happened to him. No way._

Only then, after everything that had happened, did he realize how close he was to her. How it hadn't occurred to him to do anything other than the things that he'd done since he'd brought her back from the tombs. It hadn't even occurred to him to be uncomfortable being this close to her. And even realizing all this, he didn't move. He had no desire _**to**_ move, though he knew that he would have to at some point. She would need more water, and eventually food, and he still needed to make sure she wasn't bit anywhere. He had forgotten about that possibility, and his eyes flew open.

"Hey," he said, now looking at her with concern. Her eyes opened as well, and he moved his forehead back a few inches in order to see her properly. "Are ya okay? Yer not bit or scratched anywhere, are ya?" She smiled weakly, though once again with more strength than the previous smile.

"I'm okay. _So_ much better now," she whispered, then added, "No bites." She watched the tension lessen in his face, but not disappear. "Gonna check anyway, aren't ya?" she whispered.

"Damn right," he mumbled, the corners of his mouth turning up again at how well she knew him. But he was looking at her uncertainly, chewing his bottom lip.

"It's fine," she said softly. If she had to be checked for bites, he was definitely the one she wanted to do it. "I need to change anyway."

He looked around, realizing there was nothing there for her to change _into_. "You got clean clothes in your cell?" he asked. She tried to think if there was anything clean from before… what had she been doing before everything happened? It seemed like so long ago, and she couldn't seem to think that far back at the moment.

She just shrugged apologetically. "Can't remember." Then she added with a glint in her eye, "I think I may be a bit behind on the laundry." He grinned at her joke, taking it as a sign that she must be feeling stronger, and that she would get back to her old self again. If there was one thing he knew about her, it was that she was a fighter. He'd watched her become one. _Helped_ her become one.

He looked conflicted, but said "I'mma go get some clothes fer ya to change into, even if I gotta swipe 'em from Maggie er Beth." She smiled a little bit at the thought of Daryl "swiping" the other women's clothes, though she hated the thought of him leaving again. At that moment she felt like she'd be perfectly content for him to stay right where he was, there with her.

"Okay, I'll wait right here," she said closing her eyes and smiling slightly. He hated to leave her even for a second, but he knew that she needed something clean to wear, and there was still no noise in the cellblock to indicate that the others were nearby. Slowly he let go over her hand and stood up, then turned and jogged quickly up to her cell. When he got there, he found a pile of what appeared to be an extra set of her clothes, as well as a small towel, folded neatly in the corner, so he grabbed it all and jogged back down to where she was resting, glad that he wouldn't have to rifle through the other women's possessions, after all.

She heard his footsteps returning quickly, slowing when they reached the cell again, and she opened her eyes. "What took you so long?" she asked, smiling.

"_STOP_," he told her, knowing very well that he hadn't taken a long time and she was just giving him a hard time. _Yep, the glint in her eye was definitely there_, he thought. He stared at her for a second, suddenly in disbelief once again that she really was there in front of him. This time she pushed herself up to a sitting position. He started forward to help her sit up, realizing halfway across the room that she could manage it on her own. He took the last few steps slowly, stopping in front of her a little bit awkwardly. He set the clothes down on the chair that he'd only briefly sat on.

Just then they heard voices entering the building, recognizing Rick and Hershel's voices immediately. Something sounded off though, he could tell from their tones alone. "I'll be right back, gonna see what's up and let 'em know you're alright, get Hershel to check y'over, make sure yer okay," he said gently, looking torn about leaving her there yet again. She just nodded, smiling. "Don't think you're gettin outta it though," he said seriously before he turned to leave. He walked cautiously to where the others were, wanting to get them back to see Carol as soon as possible, so that he could too. However, they'd brought in some strange woman with a big sword, so it took him a few minutes to get them to leave her and follow him back to Carol.

…

It had taken a little while, but eventually, after hugs and a few tears had been exchanged, everyone had gone about the rest of their day, knowing that Carol needed to rest. Hershel had said that there wasn't anything seriously wrong with her, she was just dehydrated and malnourished, as was to be expected after an ordeal such as hers. Daryl had stood watching through the bars at the opening of the cell, and Hershel was made to understand that she would be checked for bites and scratches after he left. He nodded in understanding. They were a small group, and not much got by any of them, much less someone like him, who had seen so much in his day.

"Ready when you are," she said after Hershel had left, looking up at him from the chair where she was sitting and fidgeting with her hands. He picked up the half empty water bottle and the washcloth, pouring a little bit of water on the cloth and handing it to her.

"Thought ya might also wanna clean up a bit. 'S dusty down in the tombs," he said. As an afterthought, he mumbled, "Can help ya if ya need it."

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. "Thank you, Daryl," she said softly. She wiped at her hands, neck and face with the cloth, quickly seeing the cloth fill with dirt. He took it back from her and poured a little more water on the cloth, squeezing it over the sink that was mounted on the wall and handing it back to her. She wiped her hands, neck and face again, feeling slightly better already. She set it down on the floor beside her.

"I can get Maggie er Beth, if ya'd rather have one of 'em do it…" She could see his apprehension growing the longer he thought about this. As uncharacteristically "cuddly" – there really was no other word for it – as he'd acted earlier, he was still Daryl Dixon, and she knew that the longer he thought about anything involving emotions, the harder it would be.

"Nope." She shook her head without any doubts. There were far too many scars from her past on her, literally, that she didn't want to have to explain to anyone else. Scars that she knew she wouldn't _need_ to explain to him. "Unless you don't want to," she added quietly. She couldn't tell which of them was more nervous about this, but it needed to be done. Besides, she knew that despite the slightly terrified look on his face, he would have insisted that _someone_ do it.

"Nah, I'm good," he replied, looking like he was anything _but_ good. "Unless _you_ don't want meto," he added. That made her chuckle, and after a few seconds he joined in. She shook her head at him. They were acting like teenagers, not adults who knew each other better than probably anyone else in the world. "What a pair we are," she whispered.

She had a few layers on, as usual, and when she grabbed the bottom of her dirty long sleeved shirt and started to raise it to pull it over her head, she winced before it was halfway up. "Stop, lemme help ya," he said, swatting her hands back down gently. He maneuvered the top shirt off of her slowly and carefully, watching her with concern for any sign of distress. He took the washcloth and wiped her arms, removing at least one layer of dirt and quickly inspecting her for any bites or scratches. Finding none on the fronts or backs of her arms or her shoulders, he nodded in satisfaction.

The once bright red tank top, which was now more brownish with dirt and blood, was her next layer. It was more fitted, so he went much slower trying to remove it from her, hoping to hurt her as little as possible. She tried to lean and move appropriately so he could remove it, knowing from his face that he was flustered. She leaned forward in the chair, both to stop it from being in the way but also in some way, maybe, in an attempt to make herself smaller.

He had rinsed the washcloth the best he could once again and brushed it over her skin quickly, rubbing at the thick layer of grime on the back of her neck a little harder than the rest, and checking her pale skin for bites as quickly as possible. His eyes moved as fast as he could manage while still checking carefully for any bites or scratches, careful not to linger anywhere. He needed to make sure that she was okay, but the last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable. All he could think was that it didn't matter how much dirt she was covered in – because she was still filthy, despite his best efforts – she was still beautiful.

Finally satisfied that she wasn't bitten or scratched anywhere on the top half, he bent down to pick up the clean clothes that he'd brought for her. He handed them to her and stood up quickly, walking across the cell as she put her two shirts on. She did feel self-conscious, but she was fairly sure that if it had been a contest, he would have won long before she did. She chuckled and shook her head as she watched the back of him as he shifted nervously on the other side of the cell.

" 'S so funny over there?" he asked curiously, but not turning around. She slipped off her pants – much easier because with gravity working _for_ her rather than against her as it had with the shirts, there wasn't as much work to do done – and even managed to get a clean pair of underwear on by herself, much to her intense relief. She'd been able to keep herself standing upright by leaning her hand against the wall to steady herself.

"You are, silly," she said quietly. There was a pause, and he didn't move a muscle. "You can turn around now," she said, continuing to chuckle.

"Pfft… STOP," he said, feeling intensely uncomfortable. "Ya dressed, er what?"

"Mostly," she replied. "Legs are ready for inspection," she teased him. _She's definitely feelin' better_, '_cause I think she's actually startin' to enjoy this,_ Daryl grumbled to himself in his head.

He turned around _very slowly_, not quite sure what he was in for. Her shirt hung down low enough that only her legs were visible, and she watched the relief on his face become visible. She watched him glance up and down, then she turned accommodatingly so that he could check the backs. She completed her slow turn, first holding the wall with one hand then the other to support her. When she was facing him again he nodded, and she started leaning down to pick up her clean pair of pants from the floor, where she'd set them down.

About halfway down he saw her wince and grab for the chair beside her for support, and he stepped forward and quickly picked them up for her. "You gotta take it easy bit more n'that," he scolded her gently. Once she was upright again she took the pants from him, and he felt her lean against him as she attempted to keep her balance long enough to put her pants on. He slipped his arm around her shoulder so that she wouldn't fall over.

"Thanks," she said simply when she'd finished, turning to look at him and putting her hand on top of his on her shoulder. She noticed that he flinched only slightly, which was less than she'd expected. She wasn't even quite sure why she'd done it, and she removed her hand before she made him any more uncomfortable that he probably already was.

"Ya need to rest now," he told her, leaving no room for discussion as he steered her to walk towards the bed. "Want ya to drink the rest of that water." He pointed to the one and a quarter water bottles that sat beside the bed. "I gotta go help Rick out with somethin', then I'm gonna come back and bring ya somethin' to eat, less someone beats me to it. But ya need to drink the water and rest til I get back," he told her firmly. She was sitting on the lower bunk now, looking up at him and smiling. He wasn't quite sure she was actually listening to what he was saying as she smiled at him. She looked like she was lost in thought, and if he wasn't mistaken, he swore there were tears in her eyes. He was immediately confused. " 'S wrong?" he asked, suddenly concerned again. "Ya need somethin?"

She shook her head, still smiling, but now the tears were actually falling down her cheeks. She had told herself she needed to hold it together at least until he left, that he wasn't going to deal well with all the emotion that was threatening to spill out of her, but in the end she hadn't quite been able to contain it long enough. "No," she whispered, almost too overcome to speak. He knelt down in front of her so he could hear her. "I just… I thought I was never going to see you again. I thought I was going to die down there. And the worst part was I thought I was going to die…_ alone_." The smile had vanished and she was just crying now.

It wasn't the first time that she'd cried in front of him, of course, but this was different. She wasn't upset about what _had_ happened, she was crying because she was relieved about what _hadn't _happened. For something completely horrible, but something that was _over_. There was a difference. These were tears of relief.

Still, he hated to see her cry at all, so he did something he'd only done a handful of times, at most, in his life, and nearly every one of them (or was it every one of them?) had been for her. He moved closer to her, slipped his arms around her and held on tight. "Shhh, t's never gonna happen. 'M not gonna let it." He could feel her relaxing into him, and though all of this – really, almost _everything_ he'd done since he found her – was totally outside of his usual behavior, he figured that if ever there was a day to act unlike himself, this was it. He'd thought she was _dead,_ for god's sake. This was a second chance, so screw how he usually acted, at least right at this moment. Her breathing eventually slowed down as she stopped crying, but it was a long time before he let go.

_She was alive_. That was all that mattered.


	41. Nine Lives

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… I'm just killing time and counting down til Sunday, like everyone else…**

**Season 3, episode 7**

**The Prison, Day**

Oscar, Axel, Beth, Daryl, and Rick had held a meeting while Hershel had stitched up Michonne, with Carl standing guard to watch the old man's back. None of them knew what the newcomer was capable of, but from the looks of her it was quite a bit. Even with her giant sword out of reach, she immediately seemed like the kind of person who could take care of herself, and then some. Carol had been content to sit on the steps a few feet behind the rest of the group and listen to them discuss what to do next. The discussion about whether they would go to Woodbury after Maggie and Glenn hadn't lasted long, because it quickly became obvious that they couldn't just sit and leave their friends – their family – in the hands of the man called "The Governor." Despite the danger, every one of the people in that circle were willing to take the risk and go after them, though it was decided that a group of four would work best. Carol cradled Lori's baby to her, still in disbelief that she herself was here at all, that she was alive. She watched the others quietly.

Daryl was the first to volunteer to go after them. Carol hated the thought of him flinging himself into danger when she felt like she had only just gotten him back, but that was one of the things that was so endearing about him. He was always willing to put himself in danger to save others. He always had, starting with Sophia. She rocked the baby, holding her just a little tighter, and tried not to think about the many, many unknowns, the dangers of this plan that was emerging in front of her.

She couldn't afford to think like that. _Everything _was a risk these days, and she couldn't afford to let her fears paralyze her. Those dangers would _always_ be there, that was just the world they now lived in. Even doing things that should have been completely harmless, like standing in the prison yard that they had long since cleared, weren't safe anymore. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself as she thought of T-Dog, who had died because he saved her life that day, maybe all of their lives – he had closed that gate, and if he hadn't, who knew what would have happened. There was no way to know how many more of them would have died. No, there was nowhere completely safe anymore, never any guarantees.

Daryl glanced over at her and saw the look of worry that passed over her face. He saw her close her eyes and inhale sharply. The baby was fine, wasn't crying, it looked like she was lost in thought somewhere. He couldn't help but wish there was something he could do about it as he returned his attention to the group of people in front of him.

The newly formed plan, for Rick, Daryl, Oscar and Michonne to go to Woodbury and sneak inside the town to get Maggie and Glenn back, was agreed upon, and the others drifted away. Rick went to check on Carl, Hershel and Michonne while Beth headed for the kitchen to prepare something for the group to eat before the four of them would set out for Woodbury. Oscar and Axel wandered after her like lost puppies, still not quite sure about their welcome in the group. Rick still didn't quite trust the two convicts, but they'd fought alongside them these past few days and the two men had begun to earn the respect of the group. That only left Daryl and Carol, who was still holding the baby, alone in that room.

He walked slowly over to where she was still sitting on the stairs and sat down beside her, one step lower because the stairs were slightly narrow. There was a calm surrounding her that he felt the moment he came near her, despite how anxious she had looked a few minutes before, and he just sat and soaked it in. They sat there quietly for a few minutes, both of them looking at Lori's baby with a mixture of awe and sadness. Babies had always seemed like miracles to Carol, but this one about a thousand times more so. After all, she had already survived harsher conditions both before and after her birth than any baby should have to.

Daryl looked from the baby to Carol and wondered what she thought about when she held Lori's baby. She looked happy, at peace, but he couldn't help but wonder how much the little girl would make her think about Sophia. Thinking about Sophia would obviously be bittersweet for her, and he hated to see her get upset. He especially hated that once again, there was really nothing he could do to make her feel better. Despite what she had said to him so many times, he was still nagged by guilt when Carol's thoughts of Sophia made her sad. Of course, there was no avoiding it, nor would he want her stop thinking about the daughter she had lost. He just hoped that this new motherless baby would bring Carol more happiness than she did sadness. They _all_ needed something to bring them hope, really.

He hadn't realized he was lost in thought until he looked up and found Carol glancing at him curiously.

"Sorry, didn't hear ya, whatever ya said," he told her.

"It _is_ easy to be mesmerized by her, isn't it?" Carol asked, her eyes twinkling at him.

"Pfft," Daryl mumbled, but smiling back down at the baby. "Guess so." He glanced back at her and saw that she was biting her bottom lip, looking like she wanted to say something, but like she wasn't sure how to begin. He had a pretty good idea what the topic was, though. "Ya don't gotta worry, 's gonna be fine. Gotta go with 'em. We're gonna get 'em back here safe. "

She nodded, though she didn't look convinced. "You're not just the hunter anymore, you know. Looking out for people, saving them… it's what you do," she said quietly.

"_STOP_. It is _not_," he protested.

"How many times have you saved _me_? And the others?" she challenged him.

Daryl winced slightly. All he could think about were the "others" that he _hadn't _been able to save. Amy. Jim. Jacqui. Sophia. Dale. Patricia. Jimmy. T-Dog. …Among others. She watched as suddenly he was somewhere else, lost in thought again. Then just as suddenly he was back from wherever he'd gone. "If I was so good at savin' people, we wouldn'ta lost so many," he said quietly. He suddenly found that he couldn't meet her eyes, and he looked back down at the baby in front of him.

"No one could have saved them all, you know," she replied gently, propping the baby's feet against her knees and resting her hand very lightly on his shoulder. She felt him flinch slightly, but also noticed that the reaction was slowly growing less over time. "The ones we've lost weren't your fault. _None_ of them were. I think you've probably saved every single one of those of us who _are_ here, probably more than once each. Without you, most of us wouldn't be here right now." She paused, willing him to look at her, which he still refused to do. "I know you've saved _me_ many times."

He did look up at her then, tilting his head and squinting a little as he tried to remember what she was talking about. "Nah, maybe that one time back at the farm…" He thought back and tried to remember if there'd been another time, but his brain was too full of thoughts of the ones he hadn't saved to allow himself to think of his successes. "Think ya just got nine lives er somethin'. Can't give me credit for that. Yer a fighter," he told her stubbornly. He couldn't help but notice the warmth radiating through the cloth of his shirt where her hand was resting gently on his shoulder. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, and it made his heart beat a little faster.

She smiled and shook her head. "I wasn't just talking about saving me from walkers… though you _have_ done that quite a few times," she said softly, now glancing down at the baby to avoid _his_ eyes and blushing slightly. The tiny girl in her arms had fallen asleep as they'd sat there talking.

"Pfft," he muttered, and when she glanced up awkwardly she noticed that he was now looking noticeably flustered and slightly red in the face as well.

She removed her hand from his shoulder and replaced it under the baby's legs. He immediately missed the warmth of her hand, and was surprised to find that he wished that it was still there.

" 'S gonna be fine," he repeated, unsure whether it was more for him or for her. He watched her as she just nodded at him and forced a smile onto her face, noticing what an effort she put into agreeing with his statement.

She'd been unable to make herself agree out loud. She wanted desperately to believe it, but deep down she was frightened for him. The rawness of how terrified she'd felt when she thought she'd lost him was still too fresh. Yes, the idea that she was going to die had scared her, but not as much as the thought that she'd never see him again, that she was _alone_. Somehow that was even more frightening.

"Better go get ready," he grumbled, standing up reluctantly. He held out a hand to her, and she again balanced the baby in one arm, bracing her against her body in her left arm and accepting Daryl's hand with her right to help her to stand carefully on the metal step. She stood up slowly, being careful not to disturb the sleeping girl she was holding against herself. As she couldn't hold the railing and couldn't see as well in front of her while holding the baby, Daryl held onto her hand as she descended the few stairs to the ground. _She_ noticed that he waited about a second longer than necessary before he released her hand once they were on the ground. _He_ noticed that her smile no longer looked forced, but instead appeared as warm as the sun itself.

_Shit_, he thought as he felt himself blushing again. He looked down in an attempt to hide his embarrassment as they walked together out toward the others, who were seated in the dining area to eat the small meal that Beth had pulled together quickly. They joined the others at the table and accepted meager portions of food. The only talk was about the Woodbury run and what supplies they would need, but otherwise a nervous silence hung in the air. Still, Daryl felt a sense of calm radiating off of Carol. Beth came to take the baby from her so that Carol had a few minutes with her hands free to eat, but Daryl noted that even without the baby, the calm that he felt sitting beside her remained. He wondered if _she_ actually felt as calm as her presence was helping him to feel. They _would_ make it back, he didn't know how he knew, he just did.

After the meal they left the dishes to the side for the time being, and everyone trooped outside towards the cars. Carol took the baby back from Beth so that she could stand with Hershel by the SUV the group was taking. She stood in the courtyard at the base of the stairs, out of the way of the commotion. The others wandered in and out of the building bringing the supplies that were needed to pack into the cars and discussing last minute logistics. Peering at the tiny bundle in front of her, she willed herself not to think about the "what-ifs" of the situation and all the things that could go wrong. They would do what was necessary, and then they would come home, as simple as that. She would not allow herself to think otherwise.

Daryl walked up quietly beside Carol, who was still standing at the bottom of the stairs holding the baby. "Stay safe," he told her simply. Nothing else needed to be said with words.

"Nine lives, remember?" she replied. She hated to see him go, but it was like she'd told him, this was who he was – a member of the group who cared so much about others that he put himself into danger time and time again without a second thought about it. Carol smiled slightly at him as he walked away, once again feeling lucky to be here to see this. They would bring the others back safely, she told herself. They had to.

His face betrayed very little as he climbed into the car, but that didn't matter. Like so many other times before, many things were already understood between them.

And now the waiting began once again, just as it did every time he left on a run.


	42. Wrong

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… there's just not enough Carol and Daryl in it, so I've taken matters into my own hands.**

**Season 3, episodes 8 and 9**

**The Prison, Middle of the Night**

Carol opened her eyes, suddenly wide awake. She stared up at the metal bedframe above her for several agonizingly long minutes before accepting the fact that she would not be getting back to sleep any time soon, as exhausted as she felt. Slowly easing herself out from under her thin blanket, hating to leave what little warmth it offered but unable to sit still any longer, she swung her feet to the cold ground. She still wasn't used to having the bottom bunk, the one that had been occupied by Lori until not so long ago, that day when things had gone so terribly wrong… She shook her head sadly and rubbed sleep from her eyes. As had been the case in the past, there was nothing to be done but move forward, so she did. Her thin socks did little to cushion her feet against the cold, so she quickly laced up her boots despite the fact that they made it more difficult to move quietly through the cellblock.

The prison was deathly silent, even more so tonight than usual. She blamed the absence of four of their group members, plus one recent addition and one newcomer for the eerie silence, hoping that was all it was. Even more so than other nights when she was awake, she was conscious of the noise she made with every slight movement as she exited her cell. For some reason, tonight every sound seemed to echo more loudly than usual. She walked forward to the railing where it overlooked the first floor below.

As it often did, moonlight streamed in through the windows high on the opposite wall. The pale light was usually calming, but somehow it wasn't tonight. Daryl, Rick, Oscar and Michonne had yet to return from Woodbury, where they'd gone to rescue Maggie and Glenn after the two had been captured on a run. No, the silence and the moonlight tonight gave Carol an odd sense of foreboding.

_Something is wrong. _It was a feeling that she couldn't shake.

She leaned against the railing and took a deep breath, glancing up at Daryl's empty perch. It felt wrong knowing that he wasn't there, wasn't on watch in the guard tower, wasn't anywhere on the prison grounds. Everyone knew how to defend themselves fairly well now, but she still felt better having him around. She sighed, closing her eyes and inhaling sharply in surprise when the sounds and images started flying at her.

First it was just darkness, but she could hear a loud rumbling noise that she couldn't identify. It grew louder slowly, and she strained in the dark to see where it was coming from. Without warning, she heard what could only be gunshots, and she cringed. After so much time in this world filled with walkers, her first reaction to _any_ loud noises, especially gun shots, was to assume that the person who was making the noise either A) didn't know that the noise would attract walkers, B) knew that the noise attracted them and was doing it anyway, possibly out of desperation and/or C) they knew the sound would attract walkers and they were doing it on purpose, for whatever reason. It didn't really matter, because in the end the result was the same: more walkers would come.

Next, she saw flashes of light that reminded her of lightning… Or maybe it was a car's headlights shining through the spaces between trees? She couldn't be sure. What _was _she seeing, anyway? Then suddenly, flames. She heard them crackling and even smelled the smoke that went with them before she could see them. Her stomach turned violently and she felt like she might be sick. Then in a flash she was looking straight at the Greenes' barn, the whole thing ablaze before her eyes, just as it had been when she and Daryl had driven away from the farm that last night after the walkers had overrun it. Just as she remembered that herd of hundreds of walkers from which she had only narrowly escaped, she heard the familiar low, grumbling moans. She couldn't tell if the sound was in her head, right next to her, or in the distance... her whole body tensed in an instant, and her eyes immediately flew open…

When she her eyes opened, she was shocked to find that she wasn't in the cellblock anymore. She was sitting down, leaning against the wall on the cold ground of that tiny little room where she'd been trapped in the tombs for what had felt like an eternity. The one where she had thought that she was going to die, alone. The one where Daryl had found her, just barely in time, after believing that she was dead.

She felt panic rising in her throat, though the one thing that she noted thankfully was that there were no walkers in the room with her. The noise must have been in her head after all, she guessed. As soon as the lack of walkers had registered, though, she started to feel as if the room was closing in on her. She'd always been claustrophobic, but during their time on the road she hadn't suffered much from it, since they spent so much time outdoors, or at least in houses with plenty of doors and windows. She hadn't even experienced this closed-in feeling the last time she'd been in this same room. She'd been too exhausted, panic stricken, and in shock over T-Dog's fate to think about how small the room was. Her _only_ concerns that day had been dodging the walkers in the hall and staying alive… and then she'd passed out. She wished that it were so easy at that moment, but unfortunately for her, she seemed to be completely conscious.

She tried to take deep breaths, attempting to think rationally since there didn't appear to be an immediate threat to her life, but the panic she felt was overwhelming. The last time she'd felt this claustrophobic, this closed in, had been at the CDC. As soon as the group had squeezed into the elevator, on its way underground, she had already felt like the walls were closing in around her. Even the larger underground areas hadn't been much better. She had nearly been overcome just by the knowledge that she was underground. How had she dealt with it? Oh yes, that's right – she'd tried to focus her energy back then on… _Sophia_. She tried to suppress a sob from escaping her. _Sophia_. Now she didn't even have her to take care of. She felt her whole body begin to shake.

But then, a thought occurred to her. _How was this possible?_ How could she be here?

Of course, the answer was that it _wasn't_ possible, and she _couldn't _be here. Suddenly she realized that she must be dreaming. First of all, she would _never _have willingly gone into the tombs alone during the night. She may have been stubborn, but she was too smart for that. She would also _never _have gone back to that little room. "I'm not here," she told herself out loud, trying to get her breathing under control. "I'm not here. It's a dream." Still, her feeling of panic was growing, despite the fact that this time around she was not exhausted or injured. She knew it was a dream, so why was she so damn scared? She just couldn't shake that same feeling she'd had before… something was wrong. _Wake up, _she begged herself. _Wake up!_

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to will herself out of that place, that tiny room… and then she heard it. Laughter. Not happy laughter, but maniacal, full-on, evil cackling. She pushed her eyes open again and found herself… where was she? It didn't look familiar… it was a large, empty room, maybe a warehouse, with no furniture whatsoever inside it. It was almost as dark as the tiny closet-like room that she'd just been in, except that there was some sort of light filtering in under the door at the far end. It wasn't sunlight as far as she could tell, but some sort of flickering light.

The laughter continued as she looked around frantically, now even more frightened than she'd been a minute before. At least in the tiny little room she knew where she was. The unknown of this situation was terrifying. She was standing by the wall at one end of the room, and she began to walk forward very slowly, not seeing anywhere for anyone or anything to hide. Then suddenly, there was the laughing again, filling her ears. She looked around frantically, wondering where that laughter could have been coming from and whose terrible laughter it could be.

Her eyes snapped open, and she was lying on her side on the thin mattress in her cell. She was breathing hard, and she was covered in sweat. She made herself lie still and take deep breaths, but even when her breathing returned to normal, she noticed that she was still shaking. Calming herself down seemed to be impossible, because even now that she was awake, she still had the horrible feeling that something was wrong. If anything, the feeling was stronger now than it had been in her dream.

She squeezed her eyes shut, but the images from her dream only came again, so she forced them open and sat up in her bed. This would have been the time when she would have sought out Daryl. No, that was wrong. This would have been the time – when she'd had a nightmare – when Daryl would usually just materialize nearby. He just seemed to know when she needed him. Being around him usually had a calming effect on her, one that she could _really_ have used just then, but he, Rick, Oscar and Michonne had left for Woodbury the previous day and weren't back yet, just like in her dream. She shuddered. That dream had been far too real for her liking.

She pulled herself from her bed and put on her boots, just like in her dream. However, instead of walking to the railing slowly, she walked as quickly as she could without making too much noise to the stairs that led up to Daryl's perch. She climbed the metal stairs as quietly as possible, since she didn't hear anyone else stirring in the cellblock yet. From the hint of color in the sky that she could see through the windows, she could tell that sunrise wasn't far away. At the top, she looked around the platform at Daryl's few possessions that were scattered about. Sighing, unsure of why she was even there when she knew very well that he wasn't, she sat down on the mattress. _What am I doing up here?_

She sat there without focusing on anything for a few minutes, trying to will herself to calm down and staring up at the sky through the window. As she turned to look around the cellblock, something caught her eye on the floor beside the mattress. It was one of Daryl's shirts. She pulled it to her slowly. Then, still unable to shake the uneasy feeling, she pulled her knees up in front of her and laid the shirt down over them like a blanket. It wasn't a heavy shirt, but somehow it gave her a feeling of warmth just having it there, knowing that it was his. She laid her head down on her knees, breathing into the material, and found that it smelled faintly of him, even though it appeared to have been recently washed. She tried to summon the feeling of having him sitting there beside her, just as she'd done so very long ago when he had been out looking for Sophia. She tried in vain to will herself to feel his presence beside her. _It will all be okay. It has to be._

_Something is wrong, _a voice in her head nagged at her. She wanted to push the thought away, but she couldn't._ Something is very wrong_. She just knew.

She inhaled the scent from his shirt one more time, then laid it back on the mattress. She stood up wearily and started downstairs to begin making breakfast for the members of the group who were still there. She had an uneasy feeling that it was going to be a _very_ long day, and she was going to need to keep herself busy.


	43. Broken

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… obviously, because it would be on all year long if I did!**

**Season 3, episode 9**

**The Prison, Day**

Carol now knew why she'd been feeling like something was horribly wrong since the previous night… The answer was now clear: because something _was_ horribly wrong.

She had looked into the car when the group had driven through the gates as they returned from Woodbury, and hadn't seen him. Rick had been the first one out of the car, and when he had put his hand on her shoulder, she knew the news was bad. She'd felt ice spread out starting at the points where his hand touched her shoulder and in a flash, shooting through her entire body as if carried through her veins.

On one hand, she was relieved to know that he was alive, but on the other hand, she was dumbfounded to hear that he and Merle had just… _left_. That they had left and were not coming back. Of all of the things that she had been afraid could happen to him out there, she had never for a second considered that he might decide to leave the group _voluntarily_. To leave_ her _voluntarily.

As she asked Rick several times for confirmation, simply unable to process the idea that he was gone, she silently begged him to give a different answer. Her mind begged Rick to sat that no, Daryl would be along shortly. No, I was mistaken, Daryl will be coming, I just don't know when. Next to being dead, this was the worst thing that could happen. There were about ten seconds during which she felt like the world would crash and fall on her. Carl had stepped over to lock the main gates after the SUV had driven up to the prison building with its injured passengers, and if Rick hadn't chosen those exact seconds to stand and hug her, knowing what a blow this was to his friend, she was sure that she would have fallen on the ground and remained there indefinitely.

At the end of the ten seconds of self-pity that she permitted herself, she reminded herself of how selfish she was being. Daryl had found his brother. Sure, Merle was an asshole, but he was his _family_. Daryl had been hoping to find Merle again since they were at the quarry. The fact that they _had_ found him… in the state the world was in, with no means of communicating with people who weren't with you… it was truly a miracle.

Before she knew it, the three of them were walking back up to the prison, one of Rick's arms protectively around her shoulders and the other around Carl's. Meanwhile, the tempest continued to rage inside Carol's head.

She was already trying so hard to be happy for Daryl, though it had been only mere moments since she had been given the news. She was really, really trying. After all, if Sophia had continued to be missing, if she'd never come out of the barn and they hadn't known what had happened to her after all that time, and then she had suddenly found her again, alive… well of course she would have been her first priority.

But the game her head was playing could be called "Happy For You But Sad For Me," because at the same time, she couldn't stop the voice inside her head, the one that attacked her calm ability to be happy for Daryl. _You wouldn't have left the group if you'd found Sophia. You'd have brought her back with you._ She shook her head against the thought, knowing very well that it wasn't the same thing. Whether he had wanted to or not, it would have been impossible for Daryl to have brought Merle back to the group after what had gone on out there. Merle was Merle, and to say that he didn't mix well with the rest of them was an understatement of the highest order. No, she _couldn't_ be angry with Daryl for this. _How could she?_ How could you_ blame_ someone for choosing their own family?

_But isn't this group a family? _the voice in her head cried out in exasperation. She tried desperately to ignore the voice that was saying exactly how she felt deep in her heart. As much as it made sense to her, this thinking would get her nowhere. She needed to move on somehow.

While she didn't necessarily _blame_ Daryl, there was no mistaking the fact that she was taking the news badly. It was clear to anyone looking at her, despite her efforts to be strong. She was working hard just to remain on her feet and to keep moving. Rick had kept his arm around her shoulders as they walked up the long path to the prison building, and it was only the momentum of walking with him that pushed her forward.

When they reached the courtyard immediately outside the building, Rick asked her to take Carl inside so that he could speak to Hershel. She and Carl went in, and without stopping to so much as glance at the others, she waved him over to join Maggie, Beth and Glenn, who were gathered in one of the first floor cells. Carl stopped to watch her shuffle toward the stairs before slowly walking to the group. He was an observant kid, and he could see what was happening. Carol was like a mother to him, and he hated to see her in so much pain.

"What's wrong?" Beth whispered, baffled by the blank look on Carol's face as she had silently turned away from them. It was completely unlike her, and though she wasn't crying or carrying on, it was obvious to all of them that something was wrong. The woman who they had all grown to love looked… _broken_, for lack of a better word. Beth looked from Maggie to Carl questioningly. Maggie glanced down at her lap and Carl just frowned, watching Carol's retreating back from the doorway of the cell they were in.

"My dad just told her that Daryl isn't coming back," Carl answered solemnly in a quiet voice, looking back at the others. Beth's eyes grew wide with shock.

Maggie shook her head quickly. "No, it's not like that," she added, lest Beth think that Daryl was dead. "In a way it's better, but in a way it's worse. He's alive. He just went off… with _Merle_." She almost spat the other Dixon's name from her mouth.

Beth's eyes grew even wider. "He went with _Merle_? I mean, I know he's his brother, but… the group… but, _Carol…_" She was at a loss to finish the sentence. They all just shook their heads, sitting in silence. That anyone, even Daryl, would choose someone like Merle over Carol, one of the kindest people they knew, was just unfathomable to them.

…

Somehow Carol made it up the stairs to her cell, not aware of anything that might have happened around her as she dragged herself there. She avoided looking at Daryl's perch as she went by. She just couldn't. At the entrance to her cell she stopped and grabbed the bars for support, her head dropping to her chest as she inhaled sharply. Taking a few more deep breaths, she stumbled the rest of the way to the lower bunk.

As she collapsed on her back on the thin mattress, she couldn't help but think that she had now lost someone else. They had already lost _so many_ people, and it never got easier. Losing Sophia had been… impossible. The worst thing that could ever happen to her. She had gotten through it and gone on only because Daryl had been there to help her, but she still felt that loss every day. The other loss of which she was reminded constantly was Lori, whose former bunk she now slept in and whose baby she was helping to raise. The loss of Lori had been difficult, despite the fact that her friend could be irritating sometimes. Even so, she remembered her each time she laid down on or got up off of that lower bunk… and more often than not as she tended to Judith.

This, on the other hand, was something completely different, and in a way even more painful. How exactly was she supposed to cope with losing someone – no, not just _someone_, the only person who really _saw_ her – _by his own choice?_ How could she cope when just about _everything_ reminded her of him?

_It was almost like losing Sophia all over again_. Except this time, she had no one to hold her back from the abyss.

Of course, it wasn't the same. Sophia had been the most precious thing in her life. Daryl was… what _was_ he to her, anyway? She realized that she didn't know. He was Daryl. He was… her best friend. Her protector. The only person who _really _understood what she had been through, because he'd been through it as well. The person who had helped her transform herself from helpless to self-confident. The one person who had cared more than anyone else… Which was why this hurt so much.

Thanks to all of his training, she wasn't helpless without him, but in a totally different way, she was completely lost.

No one in the group had ever quite known what the two were to each other or what was going on between them, but their connection was clear. Or, she had _thought _that they had had a connection.

_It must not have meant as much to him as it did to me,_ she thought miserably to herself.

_Stop it_, she told herself sharply. _Merle was a blood relation to Daryl, the last one he had._

_But Merle has always been, is and always will be an __**asshole**__,_ the voice in her head supplied. _He chose that asshole over you._

_That asshole is his brother_, she argued back. _There is nothing I could do to compete with that_._ And I'm no angel, anyway._ _Besides… I didn't deserve him, or anyone else who believed in me that much, from the beginning. _She cringed as she heard a hint of self-doubt resurface in her inner voice. The voice of the person she'd been with Ed. She didn't quite believe it, and yet… if it wasn't the truth, then why was he gone?

_You shouldn't have to __**compete**__ with anyone_, the other inner voice said. _If you were ever as important to him as you thought you were, he should be here, not with Merle._

Though she hadn't thought that her heart could possibly ever break _again_ after she had lost Sophia, the ache in her chest made her suspect that that was exactly what was happening. She turned slowly onto her side to face the wall, curling in on herself and trying her very hardest to disappear. There were no tears this time, just the feeling that her chest was splitting open from the pain inside it. _I can't do this again_, she thought. _Not without him._

…

A few hours later, she was standing by the railing outside her cell, slowly collecting and folding laundry that had been dried there. Even in her current state, she'd been able to lay in her bunk for only so long before the need to be up and moving had taken over. She knew from her previous experience with heartbreak that she needed to do _something, anything, _or she just wouldn't be able to cope. So she had set herself the task of folding and sorting all of the newly dried laundry that had been hanging from the railings since it had been washed. She worked slowly and deliberately, in no rush to finish, trying to keep her mind blank and peaceful. She desperately wanted to remain calm in front of the others, so she needed to actually _be_ calm. She'd been forcing herself to take deep breaths almost constantly to achieve even the most superficial peace.

When Beth had come up the stairs with Judith, she could tell that the girl was worried about her. She imagined that they all were. Carol did her best to engage in conversation, to keep calm.

"I'm pissed at him for leaving," Beth had said finally, after making several attempts to talk about Daryl. Carol had tried to carefully redirect the conversation to other topics each time.

"Don't be." Carol had told her calmly. "Daryl has his code. This world needs men like that." She had believed it, too. She had cringed as she'd said it, but she'd meant it. She wasn't angry just now. _Devastated_, yes, but not angry.

Carol had managed to force a smile onto her face, thought it hadn't been easy. She'd tucked Judith into her basket, the side of which had been decorated with Daryl's nickname for her, Lil' Asskicker. She'd smiled sadly at Beth and continued with the laundry, and Beth had sensed that the older woman had needed a moment alone. Beth had smiled back at her, moving forward to hug the woman who was like a mother to her tightly, then had gone back down the stairs without a word.

_I will not fall apart_, she told herself firmly. She couldn't go back to how it had been before. The looks the others had given her after Sophia had come out of the barn were seared forever into her mind. _The pity._ She wouldn't do it again. _She couldn't._ She couldn't go back to that time, when no one had known what to say to her, and so they had said nothing.

She couldn't afford to have that happen again, because as much as the group had changed since then, as much as they had pulled together, she sincerely believed that there was no one in their family who would bring her back if she pulled away. They hadn't done it last time, after all. Daryl had been the only one to breach the wall that had quickly grown around her. She couldn't take that chance again. It would simply hurt too much.

She was stronger now than she had been before, and she knew that she had to face the facts, as sad as they were. The truth was that Daryl had chosen Merle. She had let herself have her moment of heartache, curled up in her cell for a few hours, and now it was time to move on…

Somehow.

Just how to do what was the part she hadn't figured out yet, but it started with keeping busy. That much she did know.


	44. Family

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but I love these characters as if they were my own. :)**

**Author's Note: Thanks to DixonStrong for the nudge to write this chapter from Daryl's POV. I'd been toying with the idea, but wasn't entirely sure whether or not to do it. Also, thanks to all of my lovely reviewers on Chapter 43 (especially HarryMakepeace, who reviews EVERY chapter, because she's awesome like that) – I'm feeling the love. This chapter's not quite as intense, because Daryl has always been a little slower to process all that "emotional crap." …But I like to think that he got there in his own time.**

**Season 3, episodes 9**

**The Woods, Day**

It only took about an hour of walking through the woods, trailing behind Merle, before it dawned on Daryl that he may have made a mistake. He tried to be rational, tried to sort through the decisions that he had made that day, the ones that had led him to be here in the woods and not on his way back to the prison, to a place with food and shelter and a group of people who respected him, who considered him a part of their family.

And of course, he had to remind himself why he wasn't on his way back to _her_.

Merle was his brother, after all, and it wasn't fucking fair that he'd had to choose between the two of them. He'd told Rick that she'd understand… _hoping_ she'd understand.

_Please, let her understand_, he thought.

Luckily, Merle wasn't much for small talk, though when he did speak up it was mostly to hurl insults his way. Daryl had forgotten just how much his big brother enjoyed pissing him off and how much of their relationship centered around Merle pelting Daryl with derogatory remarks. He'd been able to forget because he'd spent so much time since Merle had disappeared around people who _didn't_ treat him that way. Now, however, they'd fallen right back into the familiar pattern of their younger days, days that seemed to have been a lifetime ago.

This time around, however, Daryl wasn't the same person he'd been back then. Even _he_ could recognize that something had changed in him. Merle, on the other hand, was still the exact same asshole he'd always been. This didn't bode well for their ability to get along with each other, because Daryl had a feeling that Merle wouldn't take kindly to Daryl standing up to him. But Daryl certainly wasn't going to be content to listen to Merle's bullshit from now until… _forever_. The very idea of being treated this way indefinitely made Daryl shift uncomfortably, the scowl on his face deepening.

" 'S wrong, Darylina? Ya cryin cause ya miss yer playgroup back at the prison?"

Daryl looked up at Merle in surprise. They'd been walking through the trees, looking for animals to shoot, for hours and hours without any luck, and Daryl's mind had been wandering for most of that time. He hadn't thought he was being anything other than just quiet, but apparently Merle thought differently.

"The hell ya talkin' 'bout?" Daryl asked harshly, glaring at his brother.

"I been talkin' to ya the past two minutes and seems like ya ain't heard a goddamn word I said," Merle replied. "Far's I can figure, yer either ignorin' me or yer thinkin' on somethin' pretty damn hard."

"You were right the first time," Daryl told him sourly. "I'm tryin' my best to ignore your dumb ass."

Merle scoffed, clearly not believing this for a second. "Ya know they're not gonna give two shits that yer gone between the whole lot of 'em, right? I'm the only one that cares 'bout your sorry ass, baby brother," Merle told him, as if he had some way of knowing how the group at the prison would react. "Just like I always been. It's lucky I found ya 'fore those assholes decided to cut ya loose. They got no reason to keep someone like you on with 'em, ya know? Yup, ya got lucky." Merle finished speaking and nodded with satisfaction.

"Someone like me?" Daryl snarled, "the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh I dunno, Darylina, maybe it means you're the kinda someone whose original plan was to rob their fuckin' camp. Ya only ended up joinin' 'em 'cause, well, yer a pansy ass and 'cause I wasn't there to help ya. Since you're too soft to do it yerself, so ya decided to play house with 'em."

Daryl looked away, pretending to scan the brush for game, really just wanting to look away from his brother to help control the urge he felt to punch him in the face. "Ya don't know nothin' 'bout me," he growled. Merle just laughed and shook his head at him.

Yes, Daryl was glad he'd _found _Merle, but right now he was seriously questioning his choice to join him. He'd chosen _this_ – this constant stream of verbal assaults, this life once again on the run with no supplies whatsoever, with no one but his brother, and most of all, an existence with someone who clearly had no second thoughts about treating him like dirt – over the relatively good thing he'd had going at the prison? He groaned to himself internally as he tried to swallow his doubts.

_I had no choice. He's my brother, my flesh and blood, the last family I have. Couldn't bring him with me to the prison. Rick wouldn't allow it. Left me no choice._

Suddenly he was surprised to hear another, unfamiliar voice in his head chime in.

_Except… he's not the last family you have_, it said. _The last Dixon besides you, maybe, but not the last of your family._

Daryl looked around in alarm. There was no one there but himself and Merle. He frowned, trying to decide if he was going crazy.

_That group you just gave up on for your asshole brother, _the voice continued, _they're your family too. Not in the same way as Merle, maybe, but they sure as hell treat you better than he does. Did you even notice how hard they tried to get you to go back with them? How shocked they were that you wouldn't?_

This revelation made him stand up straight, looking around nervously. _Where the hell was all this coming from?_ he thought to himself. Merle mistook his brother's sudden alertness for having heard something through the trees.

" 'S up, bro? Ya got somethin?" Merle asked with interest.

Daryl looked around them, scanning the landscape hopefully, wishing that that was the explanation for his sudden alertness. "Nah," Daryl replied, "just a whole lotta nothin'."

Suddenly he heard Carol's voice echo in his head. "You've earned your place." They'd been back at Hershel's farm, where so much had happened to all of them, himself and Carol included – _to_ them, and _between_ them, though he was at a loss to identify _what_ had happened between them exactly. They'd grown closer, than much he could acknowledge. He had started to become a different person during the time the ground had stayed there. Less angry. More connected. People had _depended on him._ They'd _respected his opinion_. He'd never had either of those things from anyone in all of his life, and as uncomfortable as he'd felt about it at first, he had actually grown to like it. He'd been contributing to the group. He'd cared what happened to the others, though he tried not to let it be too obvious.

He couldn't help but roll Carol's words over and over in his mind. _You've earned your place. You've earned your place._

The thought popped into his head suddenly, as if she had just said it. For some reason, it was the first time he allowed it to really sink in. _I had a place… a place that I gave up._

In all his life, besides his father's beatings and his mother's drinking, all he'd had was Merle. And now somehow, without warning and practically against his will, thanks to Carol's gentle prodding, he had ended up a part of a group. No, not just a group. _A family._ And though at any point in his life before the Turn he would have insisted that he loathed the idea of being part of such a group, he now wished fleetingly that he could be back there with them. He suddenly saw Carol's blue eyes looking at him, calmly, soothingly, not a hint of judgment, and he sighed involuntarily.

_I've really fucked up this time, _he thought. _But what the hell was I supposed to do? Send Merle into the forest alone?_

His hands clenched into fists instinctively as his frustration level rose yet again, and he had realized too late that his sigh hadn't been as quiet as he'd hoped. Merle had turned around and looked at him, searching for any signs of weakness in his little brother that he could exploit. Daryl was already in a foul mood, and all this thinking wasn't helping matters.

"Boy, you sighin' like a schoolgirl. The hell's the matter with you?" Merle was unfortunately quite observant, and had obviously missed having his younger brother around to torment, because he sure was taking full advantage of the chance now.

Daryl set his face in a deeper scowl, feeling himself revert to the familiar role of pissed off, tag along younger brother, despite his best efforts. "Shut the hell up, Merle. Shouldn't we be lookin' for some food and some shelter 'stead of you spendin' your time ridin' my ass?"

"Don't ya worry, Darylina, we gonna find somethin' 'fore nightfall. Just keep walkin' and you leave the plannin' to me. I always had yer back 'fore, didn't I?"

"Pfft," Daryl," Daryl replied, scoffing at this idea, thinking that Merle's idea of having someone's back and his were very, very different. Merle's version of having someone's back allowed for the fact that he would leave his younger brother alone with a no good drunken father who beat the crap out of him while Merle was hauled off to juvie for months at a time for doing something particularly stupid. Or in the end, just leaving for the sake of getting the hell outta there, leaving Daryl to fend off their old man on his own. That didn't feel like Merle had had his back as far as Daryl was concerned.

_The fuck am I doing here? What's wrong with me?_ Daryl asked himself suddenly as he followed Merle through the trees. He was starting to see that this hadn't been his best decision, brother or no brother. With a start, he suddenly thought about what would happen when Rick and the others got back to the prison. He wondered how the group would fare if the Governor attacked them, as he suspected that he would, in retaliation for the devastation in Woodbury.

Possibly even worse than that, as far as he was concerned, was thinking about Carol's reaction to him not returning. Without realizing it, he hung his head, feeling like a jackass. Rick had seemed so floored when he'd said that he was going with Merle. Thinking back to when Glenn had asked "What do you want us to tell Carol?" Daryl realized he hadn't truly taken the time to consider her reaction. It was a fucked up situation he was put in, choosing between the two of them, and he'd meant what he'd said when he'd told them that she'd understand. He did believe that she would. The woman had never ceased to amaze him, and if anyone would understand, it would be her. She had never judged him for anything, even when he'd definitely deserved it.

At the same time, when he imagined her reaction, he winced. She might _understand_, but knowing her as she did, he doubted she would take it well – though he hadn't let himself think about that part until now. There had never been a conversation about what they were to each other, but despite how hopeless he was about any kinda emotional crap, he knew that something between them was different than it was between him and anyone else at the prison. Hell, between him and anyone else he'd ever known. There was no comparison. She'd always had a unique way with him, whether he had handled it the right way or not. She wasn't put off by the times when he was an asshole to her, though he didn't understand why. It was like she saw someone in him that no one else did, someone better. Though he didn't want to, he grudgingly admitted to himself that he knew how much she depended on him, and that she had ever since Sophia had come out of the barn. No, before that. Since Sophia had gone missing.

In his life before he'd met her, he had always felt like he was no good to anybody, because that was how the world had treated him. For some unknown reason, she had always insisted that that was not the case – that the group needed him, and that _she_ needed him. While he still didn't understand this – what the hell good was _he_, of all people? – he knew that she believed it strongly. _Fuck_, he mumbled under his breath, not even realizing that he'd said it out loud. For the first time he allowed himself to acknowledge that by going with Merle, he had probably hurt her.

Now what the fuck was he going to do about it?

Time passed slowly with Merle, and things did not get better. If anything, as the minutes turned to hours Daryl cursed himself more and more. The last straw for Daryl was when they helped a Spanish speaking family that was surrounded by walkers on a bridge. It wasn't easy, but they helped the man kill all the walkers that had threatened him, his wife, teenage son and infant. The second the coast was clear, Merle began rummaging through the supplies in their car, apparently feeling entitled to take whatever he wanted to as a reward for their help, despite the man's seeming desperate pleas, which the Dixons were unable to understand. Daryl told Merle to let them go, but it wasn't until Daryl walked slowly around the car and stood behind his brother, pointing his crossbow at his back, that Merle relented. Daryl realized that he was not that person anymore, even if his brother was.

When he had made sure that the family got on their way safely, he didn't waste much more time before telling Merle that he was going back "where he belonged," leaving Merle standing, stunned, in the trees. Yes, Merle was his family, but Daryl wasn't the tag along little brother who'd do Merle's bidding anymore. The time without him had allowed to Daryl to discover who he was and who he _wasn't_, and there was no way in hell he was going back to the person he had been before.

Merle wasn't standing there alone very long, however, before both men heard the sounds of a gun fight echo through the woods. Daryl started running toward the sound, knowing that it was the Governor threatening his family. Merle, knowing that his brother would head in that direction, cursed heavily under his breath and set off after him.


	45. Changes

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but I love that at least in my head, I can make them do whatever I want them to.**

**Author's Note: So, there's a lot of cursing in this chapter, a lot more so than usual. I actually don't curse pretty much at all in real life, since I have 3 kids under 8 years old. I blame the Dixons. Thanks to the wonderful people who reviewed the previous chapter, and thanks to ArcheryLefty for the inspiration for the Merle section. I was never a fan of Merle, and had never considered focusing on him that much, but I think it really added something to the chapter. I can't promise to honor requests, but I love my reviewers so much that it does make me want to at least consider them… Anyway, this is my longest chapter yet! I felt like Daryl owed Carol a **_**really**_** good apology for taking off the way he did. Maybe it's a bit over the top, but once again, that's the beauty of fanfic… you can make the characters go a little overboard. I hope you all enjoy it. **

**Season 3, between episodes 10 and 11 **

**The Prison, Night**

It had been less than twelve hours since the Governor's attack had started, when Axel was suddenly shot in the head while joking with Carol in the courtyard. All hell had broken loose for a while there, and all things considered, the fact that Axel had been the only casualty of the day was pretty incredible. When they were sure that the Governor and his men had retreated, everyone had headed inside and collapsed at the tables in their makeshift eating area. They were too overwhelmed with exhaustion to move any farther, or to do any more than blink at each other numbly. Everyone was still processing what had just happened. Only Carol had kept moving, busying herself preparing a small meal for the group. She moved around the room and sat a plate in front of each other them in turn. Most of them just nodded thankfully at her, too tired and overwhelmed to speak.

Daryl and Merle were sitting somewhat removed from the others, at a table at the far end of the room. The two sat with withdrawn expressions on their faces, just as exhausted as the rest of them. They'd arrived and immediately dealt with the threat of walkers and the Governor, but even after the gun battle was behind them, Daryl had noticed that only a few people had given him the friendly welcome that he had expected. He'd noticed that more than a few of them had slipped him hostile glares when they thought he wasn't looking, Beth especially. She had gotten up to help Carol distribute the plates of food, and it seemed that she took every opportunity available to look at him with an icy stare. He'd never seen the young girl look so angry at a member of their group. Come to think of it, he'd never seen her angry with _any_ member of their group. It was more than a little unsettling.

For his part, Daryl watched Carol as she moved around the room. He started avoiding Beth's eyes with the same determination as he tried to catch Carol's. When he'd been at the prison with the group before taking off with Merle, he had often watched Carol go about her work. She would usually meet his eyes and smile. Apparently that was not happening today. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was intentionally avoiding him. _Was she_ intentionally avoiding him? _Shit_, he thought, grasping for the first time exactly how badly he had messed things up. She may or may not have _understood_ his leaving with Merle, but either way, she apparently hadn't taken it well.

She came over to Daryl and Merle's table with a plate in either hand, setting the food down in front of them without comment. She glanced at Merle, who nodded at her, and for once – to Carol's relief – he did _not_ make a face that suggested some sort of rude comment. She gave him a small nod in return before turning her back on the pair. Daryl watched her go, surprise evident on his face. He'd tried to catch her eyes, but she had intentionally moved back to the counter to grab the plates for the others without ever looking directly at him. Daryl didn't know if Merle had noticed him watching Carol as she went about her work, but this last encounter didn't go unnoticed by either Dixon brother. Merle raised his eyebrows at Daryl, who just shrugged. Merle, of course, knew even less about whatever the relationship was between his brother and Carol than anyone else, but he had certainly felt the tension between them for a few seconds there.

"The hell'd ya do to Mouse to make her so mad atcha? And why's that blonde kid look like she wants to murder ya in yer sleep?" Merle asked in something between a whisper and a hiss, leaning towards Daryl and using the nickname for Carol that he'd given her back at the quarry.

"Guessin' it's the same reason for both, 'cause I took off with your dumb ass," Daryl mumbled. "Don't think it's just those two, neither," he added glumly. Merle glared at him in confusion, not quite understanding what _he_ had to do with the obvious tension between his brother and the woman who'd just worked so hard to ignore him, never mind the blonde kid he'd never seen before. There was more to this one, and with no other form of entertainment, he found himself mildly curious about exactly what had happened. Deciding it was a conversation for later, he focused on his food. The fact that Merle was too tired to give Daryl shit about whatever was going on was indicative of just how exhausted he was, like everyone else.

The group ate in almost complete silence, with the only sounds to be heard being the scraping of the silverware on their bowls and the occasional hushed whisper. After each of them finished eating, they eventually found the strength to drag themselves to their cells, most departing without more than a quiet glance at the others, sometimes a quick hug or a hand on a shoulder as a show of support. There wasn't much to say or energy to say it with, and most of them had retired to their bunks before the sun had set. The only exceptions to this were Glenn, who was on watch, and Maggie, who insisted on going with him.

Merle had moved himself into a cell near Daryl's perch, at his brother's suggestion. Rick had made it clear to Daryl that he wanted him to keep his eye on his brother and keep him out of trouble, if such a thing was possible. Merle stretched out on the lower bunk of his new accommodations and fell asleep quickly. Daryl sat down silently on the mattress on his perch, which he found pretty much just as he had left it. He moved an extra shirt that was laying on the mattress down to the floor beside it and laid down, staring at the ceiling high above him.

Carol's snub hadn't been lost on him. He sighed to himself, knowing that he was going to have to do something to fix that, but he was at a loss as to what. He hated the "emotional crap" that came with dealing with other people. When it came to Carol, he was willing to put forth the effort, he just didn't know _what_ to do.

As if the timing had been planned, he heard movement on the ground floor, and he sat up just enough to see a shadow coming up the stairwell between the first and second floors. He didn't need any more light than what shone through the high windows to know who it was. He could tell from the silhouette that it was Carol. Everyone else had long since gone to bed. Had she really been down in the kitchen area all this time? _That's so like her,_ he thought. _Taking on all the work herself and never asking anyone to help her, and if necessary, doing it all herself when no one offers. _He lay back down on his mattress quickly, trying to decide on the best course of action. He knew that he needed a chance to talk to her, and it was so goddamn hard to find a time or place to approach her alone during the day. No, this was a good time. He just had to handle it right.

He watched her approach her cell and make her way inside. There were a few miscellaneous noises as she moved around, then the squeak of the metal frame of the bed that held the thin mattress on the lower bunk, which told him that she was most likely laying down. He wasn't exactly sure of what he was going to say, but he figured it was now or never. He sat up and quietly pushed himself off his mattress, picking up his crossbow, which he didn't go even as short a distance as Carol's cell without, padding quietly down the few stairs from his perch to the second floor and the short distance down the catwalk to her cell. He approached it without making a sound, coming to stand uncomfortably in the doorway. He set down his crossbow with a soft clank and stood, unsure exactly what to do next.

She hadn't heard him approaching, but all of a sudden there was a shadow in the doorway. The soft sound of his crossbow being set down on the ground wasn't even necessary for her to know who it was – she knew from the profile that was silhouetted in her doorway. She was pretty sure she knew why he was there, too. Daryl wasn't one to make a big show of anything, but since there had been no chance for him to approach her since he and Merle had arrived, seeing as how they'd been too busy fighting for their lives most of the day and then she had ignored him at dinner time, she figured something like this would happen sooner than later. She took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, hoping that she had done so quietly enough that he wouldn't notice. Knowing that he was hyper sensitive to sound, she also knew that she probably wouldn't be so lucky. She stared toward the doorway, not moving a muscle, waiting for him to say or do something. _No way_ was she going to make it easy for him. Not because she wanted to be cruel, but because she had been incredibly hurt. Yes, he had come back after all, but for now the pain remained deeply set within her.

He stood in the doorway listening, and he could tell from the sound of her breathing that she was awake. Hell, she'd only laid down a minute or two ago, though after a day like today that was no guarantee by itself that she wouldn't be asleep. Still, his hearing was more sensitive that most people's – an advantage gained from years of practice tracking animals in the woods – and he heard her deep breath and the slow exhale that followed it, telling him that she knew he was there. When she didn't speak after that, he figured it was going to be all up to him this time. He panicked just a little bit, but reminded himself that he had made the choices that had gotten him here, and he was gonna have to deal with the consequences. He wasn't afraid of walkers, and he wasn't afraid of apologizing, either… though to be honest, given the choice, he'd have chosen the walkers over having to say all the things he was about to say. But for her, he would.

He spoke in the same soft, gravely voice that he always did with her, not quiet enough to be considered a whisper but not loud enough to be what most people would consider a normal volume. Just the familiar sound of his voice seeped into her chest and tugged on her fragile heart, which had suffered so much after Rick had told her that no, Daryl wasn't coming back. While his voice was a sound that had soothed her in all the time she'd known him, after recent events hearing it again was simultaneously wonderful and painful at the same time. It suddenly felt as though he'd already rubbed salt in her wound, her aching heart, before he'd finished saying her name. She took another deep breath, knowing that she needed to hear him out, no matter what he said.

"Carol, I know yer awake. And I know you're probably pissed at me, and… well… you got every right to be. You don't gotta say nothin', but please listen." He took a deep breath, the first of many, and continued. "I know I don't deserve for ya to forgive me fer takin' off with Merle. It was a fucked up thing to do. It was a fucked up position I was in. I…" he paused, running a hand over his face, trying to put it into words. _Goddammit, this is hard_, he thought.

"I don't want ya to think I don't… that I…" he stumbled over his words, not quite sure how to say what he was thinking. Sighing heavily, he tried again. "I didn't _wanna_ have to choose. It was the most fucked up thing I've ever had to do. And I know you and everyone else thinks I'm a total dumbass for goin' with Merle. I know that what we got here, this group, that we're damn lucky to all have each other, what with the world the way it is. I'm grateful that ya didn't let me pull away from the 'em back at the farm. Yer the only reason I didn't, and if ya haven't accepted that yet, then ya should." He shook his head, looking down, and suddenly his voice got just a little softer. "Ya never give yerself enough credit for how amazin' y'are."

He paused, trying to temper the urge to get his thoughts out and have it over with with the need to make them come out coherently and not make a complete food of himself. "I know that I hurt ya, and it's the last thing I wanted to do. I know from experience that it's easier to believe all the bad stuff 'bout yerself… 'specially when somebody who's supposed to be looking out fer ya goes and does some dumbass thing, like run off with their asshole brother and tell their friend to tell ya he's not comin' back. My asshole brother, who was supposed to be the only one in the world who cared about me, sure ran out on me enough times fer me to understand that." He paused, both for emphasis and to collect his thoughts. "That was me bein' stupid. Don't say nothin' 'bout you, 'n I don't want ya to feel like it does." He paused again. _Collect your thoughts and keep goin, dumbass, _he told himself.

"All I could think was that Merle's my brother, my only family, and Rick told me I couldn't bring him back here, 'specially after what happened in Woodbury. Yeah, I know he treats me like shit. Always has. Was tryin' to toughen me up 'gainst the world, maybe, and in some ways it worked too well. But I never knew no different til I met all y'all. I never had nobody believe in me, act like they cared 'bout me and not lemme push 'em away, before this. Not 'fore you… This group that ya worked so hard to make me feel a part of back at the farm… I didn't realize it 'til I was trampin' through the woods with Merle and he was being his same old dumbass self… but y'all are the family I never had, that I always thought I didn't need or want, 'cause I never understood the point of family. Far as I knew, family was just there to piss ya off and fuck ya up, whether it was 'cause they took off or 'cause they were there but they beat the crap outta ya. I didn't get it. I had nothin' to compare it with." He leaned heavily against the doorframe and looked at the floor. "But now I do."

"And I know, you an' everybody else's probly wonderin' why the hell I'd choose my asshole brother who treats me like shit over people who act like they respect me, though I still don't understand why y'all do. And why I'd choose to go with him instead of people who act like I got somethin' to offer 'em, which I'm still not sure I do. Or, ya know, why I'd chose him over someone who's important to me…" he bit his lip. How to put it into words? Then he realized, maybe he should just say it that way. "Someone so important to me that I don't know how to put it into words, 'cause I ain't never had anyone like that, and sure ain't never heard of no word for it." He paused again, satisfied that at least one thing that he wanted to say had come out the way he wanted it to.

But there was still more, so he continued. "And I was walking through the woods with Merle, and I started wonderin' the same goddamn thing as everyone else had already wondered. I started thinkin', 'what the hell's wrong with me?' Ya know I ain't never been quick to pick up on shit like this…" Once again, he rubbed his face with his hand, wondering how his speech was being received. She had been quiet and completely still this whole time, and he couldn't see her face, which was hidden in the shadow of the bunk, but he continued anyway. After all, he'd come this far. He might as well finish.

"Guess what I'm tryin' to say is…" he paused, taking a deep breath, telling himself to get on with it and the hell with whatever Merle would tell him that Dixons did and didn't do. "I wanted to tell ya that I'm sorry. I know you'll tell me I don't owe ya no apology, that I don't owe ya _nothin'_, but that's bullshit, 'cause I do. I don't want ya to think that yer not important to me, 'cause ya are. I'm a goddamned asshole, and I guess I'm slower'n most people fer not realizin' it sooner, but this group's family to me. _Not_ the kind of family I grew up with, but the kind that people're supposed to have. The ones that look out fer each other. I'm not gonna be throwin' that away again. And I know I don't deserve for ya to forgive me…" He paused then, hating to ask for anything from anyone, even her. No, _especially_ her. "…but I hope ya will anyway."

He dropped his head and looked at the shadows on the floor. He could tell from the sound of her breathing that she wasn't asleep, but figured she was gonna be digesting what he'd said for a while. That was okay with him. After all, if someone had come and made this declaration to him, he'd definitely have needed time, and probably a long trek through the woods shooting small animals. He stood there for another minute, then pushed himself off of the doorframe, picked up his crossbow and walked back to his perch as silently as he had come. At least he could say that he'd tried.

…

In her bunk, Carol was dealing with a range of emotions that she didn't know she could feel all at once. She wanted to hug him, and at the same time she wanted to punch him. She wished to could have made herself say something to him, but she was overwhelmed. That speech he had just made was so completely out of character for him, she was left speechless. It was strange to see that their roles had now been reversed. He was talking about his feelings and she was sitting by quietly, just listening. All that was missing was for her to say "Pfft," a few times and the switch would have been complete.

She knew that his confession had been hard for him, but that he had made himself do it. _For her._ That by itself meant so much to her.

_Good,_ said one of the voices in her head, still sulking a bit. _It's about time he realized it._

_That was hard for him, but he did it because he cares, _said the other voice. _He had to get there in his own time. All that's important is that he's here now. He realized that he was wrong, he came back, and he admitted it. Oh, and he helped save Rick's life, too._

It had been an exhausting day, and Carol decided that she was only going to listen to one of the voices, the one that reflected the person that she really was, that she had _decided _to be since arriving at the prison. The one that believed in the good of people despite the many reasons she had had in her life to doubt them. As she pulled the blanket around her, she pushed the first voice out of her head and decided that life was too short to sulk. She would have to digest all this for a while, but that the second voice was right. _All that's important was that he was there now._

…

Merle had never been a heavy sleeper, for much the same reasons as Daryl. Growing up as they had, he had needed to be ready to respond to the slightest noises or risk bodily injury from their father, who sometimes got it into his head to beat the crap out of him in the middle of the night, with or without an actual reason. Merle didn't know what had awoken him that night, but as he lay on his bunk and became more and more aware of his surroundings, he realized that Daryl was talking to someone quietly in a cell not too far away. It was hard to tell with the way sound echoed through the prison exactly where he was, but the longer he listened, the more he guessed he knew who he was talking to, especially when Daryl kept talking. Clearly he wasn't getting a response, which told him that his guess had been correct. Daryl was talking to Mouse.

He heard his name mentioned a few times. He heard his brother calling him an asshole more than once. _Fair enough_, he thought. He wasn't delusional enough to think that he _wasn't_ an asshole. The more he listened to Daryl, the more he wondered just exactly what had happened during the time since he had escaped those handcuffs on the roof in Atlanta and made the conscious decision not to return to the camp he and his brother had been poised to rob the last time he'd seen him. Listening to his brother's confession also gave him a better idea about what was going on between him and that mousy woman. If he didn't know better, he'd say that his brother was in love with her. Couldn't see _why_, didn't seem to be nothin' special 'bout her, and there sure was better lookin' women around… but he thought maybe if he kept listening, he might get a better idea. _What the hell else I got to do? _he thought to himself.

Merle was perplexed. This Daryl wasn't the same brother he knew. He'd already seen some of the new Daryl as they'd been on their own in the woods, and there were at least three distinct ways that he had identified that Daryl had changed. First, Daryl had carried himself differently, more confidently. He'd looked both surprised and annoyed when Merle had talked to him the same way he'd always talked to him. Granted, Merle knew he gave his brother a lot of shit, but that was just how Dixons were with each other. It was how they'd _always_ been with each other. Daryl had never had that look in his eye before… the look that said… how would he describe it? If Merle had to put it into words, he would have to say that the look Daryl had given him said something like "Don't fucking talk to me like that, asshole." That was definitely new.

Secondly, when they'd helped those damn people on the bridge and Merle had tried to claim a few of their extra supplies as payment, Daryl had _pointed his goddamn crossbow at him _until he'd stepped away from their car and let them drive away. **He'd pointed a weapon at him, his own brother.** Daryl never would've done that in the past, because Merle would've kicked the crap out of him, and Daryl knew it. Suddenly he wasn't afraid of him anymore.

Finally, when Daryl had finally chosen to leave him to go back to the prison… well, he sure as hell never thought he'd have seen the day when his own goddamn brother would walk away from him and leave, not seeming to care whether or not he saw him again. The fact that the group of people he was choosing over his only living flesh and blood was a group that the Dixon brothers had been ready to rob not so long ago… well that was just icing on the fucked up cake. Merle shook his head. His brother had always been the sweet one, of course, but _damn_. It was almost like he didn't recognize him anymore.

Once upon a time Daryl'd been just as pissed off, hardheaded and antisocial as Merle himself, or nearly so anyway. After all, Merle was the only example Daryl had ever had, besides their father, who was far worse. But when Merle had been removed from the picture as an influence on Daryl… the boy – because that was still how Merle thought of him, no matter that Daryl hadn't been a boy for many, many years – had changed remarkably. Merle knew that he was rough on Daryl, and that he always had been. It was the only way he knew to be, even if he'd seen how it made the kid miserable throughout their lives. Maybe his best hadn't been very good, but he had thought he'd done his best for him at the time…

He wondered now, though, if he should've done more, or done something differently. After all, he'd never known what their old man had done to Daryl, that Daryl's back was just as covered with scars as his own. _No, be honest, _he told himself. _That ain't fuckin' true._ To tell the truth, he hadn't _wanted_ to know. He'd been in denial when he'd thought that their old man wouldn't have done the same damn thing that he had done to Merle to Daryl once Merle had left. Merle hung his head. It was like he'd told Daryl in the woods… he'd _had_ to get outta there, or he woulda killed the bastard. But hindsight was 20/20, or whatever the fuck that expression was. It was easy to look back now and think that he shoulda done something to help his brother. He'd just been too goddamn concerned about himself. He'd been practically a kid, too. It wasn't supposed to be up to one kid to protect another kid from their own father.

As far as what he was gonna do being stuck in this goddamn prison with these assholes… well, that was a whole other kinda fucked up situation. He grudgingly conceded that it was better in here than outside the walls, with the biters, or with the Governor. Of course, he knew that the Governor wasn't done with this group. On the contrary, knowing the Governor as he did, he was pretty sure he was just getting started. It was uncomfortable as fuck to allow the thought to even form in his head, but he seemed to be stuck in here with these people who hated him and probably wished that he had died that day, despite the fact that he'd helped save Rick's life.

Would _he_ have treated him the same way as _they_ were treating him if he was one of them? He cringed at the very thought of even _being_ one of them, these pathetic fools who thought that could take on the manpower and firepower of Woodbury, but he saw the thought out to the end and admitted to himself that yeah, he had earned the treatment he was getting. Could he say he was going to do better, to make nice with these stupid fucks? _Fuck no_, he was pretty sure he would be exactly the way he'd been with them so far. Was he aware that Daryl desperately wanted him not to fuck this up, so that he could stay with them? Well, yeah, that was obvious. Would Daryl leave with him and say "to hell with the group" again, if Merle got himself kicked out? After what he'd just heard in the hallway, the answer to that was a resounding _no fucking way_.

Merle kicked once at the metal bedframe by his feet, silently cursing everything that had gotten him to this fucked up place. His father. The people who'd treated him like trailer trash all his life. The biters. Rick Fucking Grimes who'd handcuffed him to a fucking roof, and that stupid fucking T-Square, or whatever the hell his name was that dropped the goddamned key. The Governor. Life. He wasn't making any promises to anyone, but for his brother, well… he'd try, goddamn it, all the while knowing that his best wasn't worth shit.

When it came down to it, he was who he was, and he knew full well that he was an asshole. He'd just have to try to be an asshole that acted like he cared about his brother, for maybe the first time in his life.

…

It took a day or two, but Carol digested it all, and decided that she could let it go. It was like she'd told herself before… life was too short. Besides, she'd missed him terribly, and it had been possibly the best apology in the history of the world.

Dragging her hands along the bars as she walked along the row of cells, she stopped in the doorway of a cell where Daryl was sitting on the bottom bunk, fixing an arrow. She leaned her back against the bars of the doorway.

She smiled at him, the warm smile that he remembered. He'd missed that smile. "Haven't had a chance to say, I'm glad you came back," she told him.


	46. Don't

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… yet… :)**

**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who told me they liked the Merle perspective in the previous chapter, and for the lovely reviews. I'm sure there will be another opportunity to hear from Merle in the not too distant future. For now, a few more calm moments amidst the storm caused by the Governor.**

**Season 3, episode 11 **

**The Prison, Day**

"He's your brother," she began gently. Daryl looked up at these words. She had his attention now. He'd waited to see where she was going with this. "But he's not good for you. Don't let him bring you down."

Daryl looked back down, then back up at her. He knew that what she said was true, and yet… it was difficult to hear.

Daryl was still fiddling with the arrow in his hand, sitting on the lower bunk of the cell where Carol had sought him out to tell him that she was glad he was back. It was the first time they'd talked since his middle of the night apology. The fact that his brother wasn't good for him wasn't just her opinion. It was a fact, and she could only hope that he could see that, like the rest of them could. She wasn't sure how he was going to react, but it had needed to be said.

"After all, look how far you've come," she finished simply.

They looked at each other for a few seconds, then both laughed slightly. And just like that, what had felt like a curse, the invisible barrier between them that had been there ever since Daryl and Merle had come back, dissolved before their eyes. He was so relieved to see that the light had returned to her eyes, he couldn't help but smile just a little.

"I missed you," she told him suddenly, without even thinking about what she was saying. He noticed that she _looked_ as surprised as he _felt_ when the words came out of her mouth, but she just bit her lower lip and raised her eyebrows for a second, shaking her head at herself. It was just another endearing thing about her.

_Did I really just __**say**__ that? _she thought in surprise. It was the truth, she just hadn't known it was going to come flying out of her mouth. She supposed it was relatively harmless as far as things she could blurt out went… It really didn't begin to describe the depth of how she had felt for the past few days, but she didn't elaborate any further, for his sake. She knew how the "emotional crap" freaked him out. Besides, she doubted she even needed to say more. Somehow he always seemed to "get" her.

He could feel himself blush, and he looked down at the arrow in front of him, almost, but not quite, smiling involuntarily but not meeting her eyes. "Pfft," he responded. She hadn't lost her touch, apparently, because she could still make him uncomfortable with just a few words. This time, just three.

"Ya been sleepin' any better?" he asked, effectively changing the subject. She rolled her eyes, seeing through his effort to shift the focus off of him, but going along with it.

She shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. "Not really," she grimaced, looking around the cell, anywhere but at him. She knew what was coming.

"Still havin' nightmares?"

"Sometimes... Not quite as often as I used to, though." She paused, looking up as if she'd been caught doing something wrong. She _knew_ what he was going to say, and was trying to figure out how to make it sound like it wasn't a big deal. "I've gotten used to them. I can almost always make myself wake up from them now," she said, suddenly looking at the ground as if it was very interesting.

He remembered how her nightmares had terrified her after Sophia had come out of the barn, and for a long time afterwards. He hadn't realized that they were still plaguing her, and that it had been happening often enough that she had gotten used to them. He hated that he couldn't do anything about them, and he hated that he hadn't even known. _How did I not know? _he wondered. He hadn't heard her screaming at night, so he supposed he had just assumed they had gone away… which, thinking about it now, seemed pretty stupid of him.

"Well, ya know I'm not usually sleepin', and ya know where to find me if…" He trailed off, the words suddenly sticking in his mouth. It was coming out wrong.

Then without warning he was remembering that night at the hunting lodge, which felt like a million years ago. The two of them had had a close call with a few walkers one cold, rainy night when she'd been keeping him company on watch. That night, after things had calmed down, he'd stayed in the bedroom with her because after so much time sleeping surrounded by the group, near campfires or camped out in living rooms, she had hated being in a bedroom alone. He'd known that she wouldn't have slept there by herself, no matter what he'd said, and she'd been hurt falling against a wall and he had wanted her to get a good night's sleep in a bed. He'd been glad he was there to wake her up from what had sounded like one of her more intense nightmares.

He hoped that she hadn't been having those same nightmares this whole time they'd been at the prison and had just gotten used to dealing with them alone because she was alone in her cell. It would be just like her to do that rather than seeking anyone else out. She'd say she didn't want to bother anyone in the middle of the night, still not understanding that he wouldn't have minded. That he _wanted_ to help her.

She looked up at him again, that smile creeping back onto her face. He instantly knew he wasn't going to like what came out of her mouth next. "So you're saying I should come visit you on the perch in the middle of the night?" Her eyes were full of mischief, and he could now feel that he was beet red in the face.

"_STOP_," he muttered, looking away.

She suppressed a chuckle, before choking out a very giggly "Sorry." The grin on her face said otherwise.

"Nah, y'ain't," he said with a quiet laugh.

She made a mischievous face, her eyes sparkling. "Okay, I'm not," she conceded. Then she turned down the wattage on her smile back to "normal," looked at him and waited a second for him to look back at her. "Thank you, Daryl." She couldn't give him _too_ hard a time, he was being so sweet to her.

He shook his head. "I shoulda asked a long time ago. Hate to think they happen so much ya got used to 'em. Shouldn't be like that." His eyes narrowed ever so slightly at her. "And ya shoulda told me, ya know that, right?"

It was amusing to see such a tough guy get so protective of her, but now it was her turn to look away uncomfortably. She'd known he'd say that at some point, when he found out about her nightmares. "I didn't—"

He cut her off, already knowing what she was going to say. "Ya wouldn'ta been botherin' me, already told ya, lotsa times before this. Ya need something, ya tell me." She looked at him sheepishly. "Why you gotta be so damn stubborn, woman?"

"So which one of us is the pot, and which one's the kettle?" she asked playfully, sending the observation straight back at him.

"Pfft," he snorted, shaking his head at her and knowing it was absolutely true, just something else they had in common. For a few minutes, they were each lost in their own thoughts. Carol was still standing against the bars in the doorway across the cell from him where she'd stopped when she had arrived.

Without warning, he had the urge to apologize to her again, this time to her face. It hadn't been the same saying he was sorry when he felt like he was talking to thin air. He gave it only a few seconds more forethought than she had given her "I missed you" confession before the words were barreling out of his mouth.

"Hey," he said, focusing on her and waiting for her to look back over at him, "ya know 'm sorry, right?"

She nodded, whispering, "I know." Her smile was warmer than the sun.

…

The rest of that day had been a blur. Andrea had shown up at the outer gate with a "walker on a stick," keeping the other walkers at bay around her, and asked to be let in. Rick had grudgingly allowed her in, but had shown her in no uncertain terms that he didn't trust anyone who represented the Governor… even her. She had said she wanted the sides to sit down and come to an agreement. It seemed too good to be true, but they finally decided uneasily to give it a try. Still, there was a sense that they needed to be prepared, just in case. Nothing ever seemed to go as planned anymore, and peaceful coexistence with the Governor seemed impossible.

Late that night Daryl was lying on the mattress on his perch, staring into the dark and trying to quiet his thoughts enough to sleep for a few hours, when he heard a slight noise from the direction of the cells. It wasn't a scream, or a cry, not _quite _like someone was gasping, but it was the closest thing he could compare it to. It was loud enough that he could hear it, though in the large, echoing building that wasn't saying much. He realized that he'd heard that sound lots of other times at night, and hadn't thought much of it. The first few times it had made him sit up and look around, but it had never lasted more than a minute or so, so he figured it was just an unconscious sleepy noise from one of the people in the cells nearby… which it was, in a way.

Now, however, after talking to Carol earlier that day he had a strong suspicion about what he'd been hearing on all those other nights. He wondered if he was right, and also if she'd actually come up and talk to him. His eyes were fixed on the doorway of her cell, or about as fixed as they could be in the inky darkness. There wasn't much light coming through the windows tonight, because the sky was overcast and the moon was working hard to shine through the clouds.

Carol woke up, breathless, gripping the side of the metal frame beneath her mattress and breathing a little heavier than normal. Another nightmare, a familiar one. Sophia, running from the interstate, down the hill into the trees, chased by walkers through the forest, scared and alone, and then tripping on a tree root, which allowed the walkers to catch up to her and… yep, that was her most common dream, though some others were much stranger and more frightening. She pushed herself slowly into a sitting position, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She sat there, catching her breath, swiping at the tears on her cheeks with her hand. She'd had the same dream so many times, but it never got easier. She'd just gotten better at waking herself up, preventing it from going on and on and on… She sighed, forcing herself to stop and breathe deeply. It was over for tonight.

The noise stopped, and for a few minutes he heard nothing. Then he could make out the faintest of creaks, then nothing again.

She knew that after what Daryl had said earlier, she wouldn't hear the end of it if she just stayed put in her cell and stared at the walls. She pushed herself up off of her bed, wincing as the springs that held her mattress disturbed the stillness with their squeaking. She considered putting her boots on to shield her feet from the cold, but didn't want the noise of her boots against the floor to wake anyone else. She could feel the cold of the floor through her socks as she padded softly out of her cell, but she didn't mind too much. She'd certainly been through much, much worse.

He was watching her cell doorway when he saw her shadow emerge. She walked slowly along the catwalk, almost as though she wasn't sure where she was going. He was a little bit surprised that she was making her way in his direction, considering how stubborn she could be. He sat up and stretched, pulling himself up to sit cross legged on the edge of his mattress and watched her shadow move in his direction.

She was almost to the stairs that led up to Daryl's perch, wondering what she was even _doing_, when she saw his shadow shift so that he was sitting up. She smiled, glad that he wasn't asleep after all, and walked a little faster. She was eager to get her feet off the cold floor.

At the top of the steps she stopped, standing in front of him and feeling silly for being there. He patted the spot on the mattress next to him and she sat down, their knees not quite touching, tucking her cold feet underneath her. She rubbed her hands together, the cold from her feet having traveled through her whole body in the short time it had taken her to walk from her cell to his perch.

"Cold?" he whispered, pulling a blanket from behind him and putting it around her shoulders.

"Yeah, thanks," she whispered in return. He pulled another blanket around his own shoulders, watching her carefully.

"Y'okay?" he asked softly.

She nodded her head somewhat unsurely. "Yeah."

She didn't look terrified, like she had the last time he'd seen her after a nightmare. She just looked… sad. "Sophia?"

She just nodded and sighed heavily. He watched her as she stared out into the darkness as the seconds stretched into minutes. He hated that there was nothing he could do for her. The longer they sat there, the more he felt the familiar guilt stabbing at him once again. _I should have… I could have… If only… _He looked down at the ground, closing his eyes, and this time he was the one to sigh.

"Don't," she whispered. He looked up to see that she was looking at him now.

"Don't what?" he asked stubbornly, even though she knew _exactly_ what she was talking about.

"Don't do that to yourself."

He snorted softly, annoyed with himself. Wasn't _he_ supposed to be comforting _her_, not the other way around? He looked back at her. It was one of those times when he wouldn't have been surprised if she'd actually been reading his mind.

"Not doin' nothin'," he replied a little more harshly than he'd intended.

"You have nothing to feel bad about. _Nothing_," she said quietly.

"But I didn't—"

She cut him off. "_Nothing._" The look in her eyes _dared_ him to contradict her.

He chuckled, amused by how they could have a conversation with so few words, and how they both seemed to know exactly what the other was thinking. But most of all, he was astounded by how much she had changed since he'd met her. The look on her face just then alone proved that.

"Yep, we're quite a pair, alright," she laughed softly, as if somehow responding to his thought.

_How does she __**do**__ that?_ he wondered to himself.

"Ya gonna be okay?" he asked softly.

She nodded slowly, looking at his vest laying nearby, the angel wings visible. "Of course I am," she replied quietly, "Haven't I got the best guardian angel a girl could ask for?"

He had a sense of déjà vu as he realized that she'd said the same thing that night back at the hunting lodge, the same night that he'd been thinking back to earlier that day when he'd reminded her that he was there for her. It was amazing how in synch they were sometimes.

She stifled a yawn and pulled the blanket off her shoulders, setting it down behind her. He raised his eyebrows at her questioningly. "Goin' back to bed?"

"Yeah, I think I can sleep now," she murmured sleepily. "Thanks, Daryl." She smiled at him, then added quickly, "And _don't you dare_ say 'it ain't nothin'.' Listening to me is most definitely _not_ nothing. Not to me, anyway."

"A'ight, then… yer welcome," he said slowly, as if they were words from some foreign language and he was saying them for the first time. They certainly felt foreign in his mouth.

She could see how unfamiliar the expression was to him, and she just shook her head, smiling. He really was a piece of work.

"Good night," she whispered, patting his knee gently before standing up and stretching.

"Night," he said quietly.

She headed quickly back to her cell to get her feet off of the cold floor as he turned to lay back down and spread the blankets over him.

He realized then that he hadn't flinched.


	47. Quiet

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… which is OK as long as I'm able to rewatch it over and over and over. :) **

**Author's Note: Sorry it's been longer than usual since my last update. This week my "real life" was busier than usual, and I struggled with this chapter – it just didn't want to be written. I'm still not too happy with it, but I've decided that they can't all be my favorite. I hope you all enjoy it.**

**Season 3, episode 12**

**The Prison, Daybreak**

With Rick, Carl and Michonne going on the supply run to King County, where the Grimes family had lived before the Turn, the rest of the group back at the prison was on high alert. It would have been just their luck for something bad to happen at the prison while several of their best fighters were gone. Sometimes it felt like the _only_ luck they had anymore was bad luck.

Daryl had been up before the sun to see Rick, Carl and Michonne off at the outer gate just as the sky was brightening. Glenn was on watch in the tower, and the others were sleeping. There was so much to do to get ready to defend the prison against whatever the Governor was going to do, and yet, who knew how long it would be until the next time until the next time they got any sleep. With what the next few days would likely bring, he couldn't bring himself to wake the others quite yet. _A few more minutes_,_ then I'll wake them up_, he thought. After all, they had been lucky enough to have slept through the four of them easing out of the cellblock.

This was how Daryl ended up walking the perimeter fences alone so early that day. He was trying to figure out what needed to be done and how best to divide the tasks, when he heard a whistle and turned toward the guard tower, where Glenn pointed towards the far end of the fences. There was a build-up of walkers on the outside of the fence at the other end of the field, where Glenn was pointing. Daryl jogged along the perimeter, which was otherwise clear, to the area where somewhere between twelve and fifteen walkers had gathered. Along the way, he grabbed a thin metal pole that was lying on the ground nearby. It had undoubtedly been used for the same purpose on an earlier occasion.

A little while later, now covered in walker remains once again, he put the tip of the pole through the eye socket of the last walker and turned around to scan the fence line. It looked clear from his angle. He turned and looked back up at Glenn, who gave him a thumbs up as the "all clear" signal. He had now been all the way around the perimeter and had his thoughts mostly sorted out, so he turned to walk back up the hill to the prison. The sky was brightening quickly with the beginnings of what promised to be a beautiful sunrise.

He'd only gone a few steps when he had the sensation that he was being watched. He glanced back up at Glenn in the guard tower, but he was scanning the perimeter at the other end of the fence, not looking in his direction. He wheeled around and looked in the direction of the woods, just in time to see a branch moving at the treeline. _Shit_, he thought _What the hell was that?_ It seemed like too much of a coincidence for it to have been any kind of animal. No, the more likely answer was that someone was watching them. It didn't seem like a stretch to think it was someone from the Governor's town of Woodbury.

While he would have liked nothing more than to have charged off into the woods to see who it had been that was spying on them, and possibly learn more about what the Governor had planned, this wasn't a day that Daryl could afford to run off into the woods by himself without informing anyone else – _not_ that there was any day when that was actually a _good_ idea. There was simply too much to do to get ready to deal with the very real threat posed by the Governor. Daryl stared into the woods for a few more seconds before turning to stride back up the hill towards the prison. _Now_ it was definitely time for the others to wake up.

…

Daryl was pacing. Rick, Michonne and Carl had made it back from King County before dark with supplies, which was good news. They'd had a few close calls, and had even run into Morgan, the man who'd saved Rick the day he'd woken up after the Turn. The time since the Turn had not been kind to Morgan, but despite this, he had returned to the prison with the group.

Despite the seemingly good fortune of the day, Daryl couldn't shake an uneasy feeling. Rick and the Governor were supposed to sit down and "work things out" the next day, and something just didn't feel right to Daryl. He'd been pacing the floor of the cellblock now for at least twenty minutes. A few people had exchanged confused whispers, but no one had asked him directly why he was pacing. After all, it wasn't exactly as though there wasn't anything they needed to worry about. On the contrary, there were _lots_ of things to worry about. Finally, tired of feeling the others' stares, he walked quickly to the door of the cellblock and went out into the cool night air without a word. The chilly air felt good, and he immediately felt the tension in him lessen, though it didn't come close to abating completely.

Daryl considered relieving Rick, who was now on watch, but decided against it. His next shift wasn't for a few hours, and while he felt better outside, he was still too agitated to be stuck in the guard tower at the moment if he didn't have to be. Without disturbing the gravel beneath his feet, he headed back down toward the outer fences, deciding to walk the perimeter again. When he reached the fence, he shone his flashlight into the trees. He didn't have the sensation of being watched, but he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that he'd had all day, nonetheless.

Without taking his eyes off of the treeline, he began walking slowly along the fence, shining his flashlight into the foliage but still seeing nothing. The stillness was eerie. For once, the area was clear even of walkers. While that was what they always hoped to see – a perimeter free of walkers – it happened so seldom that it was almost too good to be true. Too good to be true, in his experience, was usually a sign of trouble, so he was suspicious of the quiet. Walking slowly and stealthily, he continued along the perimeter. A rustle in the trees made him jump suddenly, but it turned out to be just a squirrel. _Damn squirrel_, he thought to himself, continuing his walk. He knew that he needed to calm down, but he was just wound up too tight.

Carol had been standing outside of the cellblock door for some time now. She followed Daryl's progress by the pinprick of light that was his flashlight in the distance. She'd considered walking down to talk to him, but it seemed better to let him have the time to himself. He had needed to escape from people for a while, and while she didn't think he would react negatively to her presence, she knew that there were times when he needed his space, even from her. Right now he was doing the one thing that was closest to going out into the woods that he could do in the dark of night. She hoped that it would relieve his stress, even if only a little bit.

She sighed and crossed her arms, holding them tightly against herself in the cool night air. Everyone was on edge, not knowing what the next day would hold and hoping against hope that it would bring something positive for once… but they were dealing with the Governor, and at least to her, it seemed like too much to hope for. Carol sighed again as she watched the pinprick of light move around the edges of the yard, and ever so slowly, back towards her. It was progress, no matter how slow. She shook her head, thinking that there were several different things that that thought could be applied to.

It must have been an hour later that he finally reached the courtyard outside the prison. He'd been heading back up the hill earlier, but about halfway up he had realized that he just wasn't ready to go back inside, and had decided to walk the perimeter again, hoping that the anxiety he was feeling would lessen if he gave himself more time outside. Really, deep down he suspected that nothing would make the feeling of dread go away, but it seemed worth a shot. He circled the perimeter, peering into the darkness, several times more, until he was finally at least physically tired. He would be on watch soon, but figured he'd at least rest a little bit before then, if he could.

When he reached the courtyard immediately outside of the building, he was surprised to see Carol sitting on a bench in the moonlight, watching him approach.

"Feel any better?" she asked.

"Little bit," he answered, looked slightly confused. "How long ya been sittin' there?"

"Not long." She shrugged, figuring he'd most likely see through her lie, as usual. She wanted to move the conversation past that part. "You see anything out there?" She motioned towards the fences with her head.

"Nah," he replied. "Quiet out there. _Too_ quiet." He sighed, sitting down beside her on the bench. "I got a bad feeling 'bout that meetin' 'tween Rick and the Governor."

"Yeah," she sighed in response, "I think Rick believes he can work it out because he _wants_ to believe it, but it seems to me that someone like the Governor… from what we know about him… well, I have my doubts."

Daryl nodded beside her. To say that he had his doubts was putting it mildly.

"Guess we gotta try though. Least as a first step." He looked thoroughly unconvinced as he said it, and she could tell he didn't believe that it would work.

"We'll be as ready as we can be around here," she reminded him.

"Yup, just hope it's enough." He stared out into the darkness down the hill, suddenly feeling tired.

_He looks tired_, she thought. "You should go get some sleep," she told him.

"Nah, gotta go on watch soon. No telling how long we'll be gone, gotta do my share 'fore I go. Ain't fair to the rest of ya." She smiled and shook her head. The night before he accompanied Rick on a dangerous mission and both of them were still taking turns on watch when they probably should be sleeping. These guys were something else.

"You want company?" she asked him.

"_You_ should sleep," he replied. "There'll be plenty to do around here tomorrow," he reminded her.

She shrugged and made a face. He frowned at her. "Again?" He didn't even have to say the word _nightmare_.

"No, not since the other night, when I told you."

" 'S good," he nodded. "Then… what?"

She pursed her lips, glancing at the ground, then up at the sky. "I just…"

He nodded slightly in understanding. "Me too," he said, not needing to hear the rest of the sentence. _She was worried. About all of it, all of them. About him_. "But we'll be alright. Ain't gotta worry 'bout that."

She smiled involuntarily as he read her mind yet again, nodding her head and staring out into the darkness of the prison yard. She sighed heavily. _How had the world come to this?_

He pushed himself to stand up, stretching and remembering once again just how tired he was. _It might be a good thing that she wants to keep me company_, he thought. _It'll be easier to stay awake with someone else there._

"Gonna head up and relieve Rick. You sure you don't wanna get some sleep instead?" he asked, giving her the chance to change her mind.

"Nope, I'm good," she smiled, getting to her feet. She would've loved to go to sleep, even on the thin prison mattresses, but the nagging fear of what was to come probably would have kept her up anyway. Besides, she always felt better around Daryl. She always had.

" 'Right, so let's get up there," he said as he started walking slowly toward the guard tower. Carol walked beside him, wishing the coming day was already over with. It was going to be a long one.


	48. Surprises

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… **

**Author's Note: So I had several requests to do something with the "real" season 3 deleted scene with Carol and Merle, which I had never seen before. (If you want to see it, go to YouTube and search for "Carol and Merle deleted scene." It's about a minute and forty seconds long) I haven't watched TWD on DVD, only Netflix and TV, so ironically enough I wrote 47 chapters of fake deleted scenes for this show and had never watched any of the "real" deleted scenes! Somehow it never even occurred to me. So I'm giving it a shot and playing with that minute and a half-ish long scene, weaving it into the middle section of this chapter, and just kinda guessing where it would have fit in in the timeline – I'm the first to admit that I may have it in the wrong place, but it's all for fun, right? Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it.**

**Season 3, after episode 13**

**The Prison, Day**

Merle was irritable, and had been since he'd woken up that morning. If he was being honest, it was probably fair to say that he'd been irritable since he'd arrived at the prison with Daryl. He didn't like these people that Daryl had become so friendly with, these people that he'd wanted so desperately to be with that he'd chosen them over him back in the woods. Merle was still harboring a lot of ill will towards the assholes who'd somehow changed his brother while Merle himself had been "MIA" for a few months, only discovering him again by chance.

Okay, so _Merle_ had been the one who hadn't made it back for _Daryl_ back at the quarry… he didn't like to think of it as deserting him, exactly… Merle hadn't expected Daryl to go off on his own all that time or anything. He must have known that he'd fall in with _someone_… Still, they were brothers, and that was supposed to mean something. These dumbasses? They were just that, and now his brother was acting like one as well, after being with them for only a few months. And _that_ was really pissing Merle off. Where was the _loyalty_? Be that as it may, Daryl had made it clear where he wanted to be, and that Merle could take it or leave it. The more he thought about it, the more he hated these people who'd somehow taken his brother away from him.

There was a clanging noise nearby, and he turned to see a young blonde at the doorway of the caged in area he was currently occupying. She looked at him nervously, as if she was trying to pretend she wasn't more than a little bit afraid of him. He noticed that she was clutching a worn out paperback book in one hand. She walked forward slowly, keeping her eyes on him as if she expected him to spring at her without warning the moment she looked away. Someone had clearly told her _something_ about him, probably that he was dangerous, that he was a monster. It was probably that stupid bitch he'd taken to the Governor. He realized that he was scowling at the girl without trying to, but didn't bother to change his expression. He nodded at her, but just kept staring. She was young, probably _too young_… but kinda hot.

Beth knew that Maggie and her father would kill her if they knew she was there, but as afraid of Merle as she was, she wanted to at least _try_ to be civil to him. From watching the rest of the group since he and Daryl had arrived, it seemed like she and Carol might be the only ones who would even make the attempt. Beth, like Carol, always tried her hardest to be polite and kind. It wasn't about how the other person behaved, whether or not they deserved it, it was just the right thing to do. It was how just in her nature to be kind, even as the world fell apart.

She managed to look him in the eye, though it wasn't easy the way he was staring at her. The look on his face was making her uncomfortable, and she wished she was already finished with her errand and back in the cellblock. "I thought you might be bored," she choked out nervously, and held the book out to him. He looked at the book in her hand. It was some stupid mystery and the title didn't sound remotely interesting to him. She felt herself hold her breath while she waited for him to take it, unsure of what he would do.

Merle paused, as if inspecting the book, watching the girl in front of him. Finally he took it, nodding at her once, as he had when she'd approached him in the first place. Beth recognized the nod. She'd seen Daryl do it many times, both as a hello and a goodbye. He kept his eyes fixed on her but said nothing.

She tried to smile, since it was the polite thing to do, but only managed a half of a smile before turning and retreating from the cage. She moved as quickly as she could without looking like she was running, wanting to be away from this man who'd been described to her as "a monster" by her sister and Glenn. Realizing that he was being rude even for him, Merle grunted what was supposed to sound like "Thank you" to the back of the fleeing girl, unsure if she even heard it.

He watched her go, then, when she was out of earshot, threw the book across the cell, satisfied with the _clang_ it made when it hit the metal on the opposite side and then the _thud_ it made as it hit the floor after that. He hadn't read a book since the last time he was forced to go to school, more years ago than he wanted to admit, and he sure as hell wasn't gonna start now.

As if out of nowhere, Daryl appeared in the doorway. "What was that about?" he asked his brother, walking slowly into the enclosure.

"Wasn't nothin', Merle replied, amused that Daryl seemed bothered by the short conversation he'd had with the girl, whose name he didn't even remember. He'd been calling her Blondie in his head since they'd arrived at the prison. Basically any chick with blonde hair was Blondie, as far as he was concerned.

"What was Beth doin' in here?" Daryl looked at him suspiciously, sitting down in the chair.

"That's her name?" Merle looked surprised, as though he'd imagined her name to be something else. "Came to give me a _book_," Merle replied, spitting out the last word as if it tasted bad. Daryl rolled his eyes, knowing all too well how Merle felt about reading.

"She was _tryin _to be nice to ya, which is a wonder what with the shit you pulled with her sister,"Daryl told him impatiently. He immediately felt the need to be protective of Beth, who wouldn't hurt a fly.

"Who the fuck's her sister?" Merle asked, now annoyed that they were still talking about the exchange brought on by a book, of all things.

"Her older sister's Maggie. Ya know, the one ya dragged in front of that psycho, the Governor? Ya best not let Maggie see ya talkin' to her little sister," Daryl advised him. "What'd ya say to her, anyway?" he asked. 

"Nothin. She gave me that damn book and all's that came outta my mouth was "thank you," right before she got through that doorway as she ran outta here. I ain't said nothin' to her. Ain't did more'n look at her."

Daryl raised an eyebrow at his brother. He knew what kind of look Merle had most likely given Beth, and he didn't like the idea. By now she was like a little sister to him. "Probably better if ya keep it that way, least for now," Daryl advised him. Merle groaned inwardly. He wasn't sure how much more of this place, and these people, he could take. They were all just so goddamned _annoying_, his brother included.

"And she's only seventeen, by the way," Daryl added, giving Merle another reason to stay away from the girl _besides_ what he'd already done to piss off every member of her family that was still alive.

Merle rolled his eyes, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Told ya, I ain't done nothin'."

Daryl stood up to go, giving his brother a stern look. "I'm goin on watch. For fuck's sake, stay outta trouble for a few hours, will ya? Maybe even be civil to these folks?" Merle could see how much Daryl wanted him to play nice, and he didn't consciously want to upset his brother… it was just that they pissed him off so badly, and he'd never been one to hold back anything. Why should he? Especially now, with the world gone to shit. What was left to lose?

"No promises," Merle mumbled. _If these assholes can leave me in peace, maybe…_ he thought. He slouched lower on the bed, content to do absolutely nothing for the moment. After all, what the hell was he gonna _do_?

…

Merle was laying on the bed in what felt more and more distinctly like a cage to him, one arm behind his head. He wasn't thinking about anything in particular. In fact, he was trying _not_ to think about much, if possible, as if all of this was a bad dream that would disappear if he just concentrated hard enough on ignoring it all. He looked over at the slight noise of approaching footsteps, wondering who would be brave enough to approach him. He was surprised to see Mouse, er, _Carol_ approaching with a tray.

"I brought you some food," she said, holding a tray out to him. He remembered Daryl's pleas about playing nice and decided to make an effort, maybe just this once. He reached out and took it.

"Thank you." _There, that wasn't so hard, was it?_ he asked himself. Never mind that it nothing on it looked particularly appetizing.

"I figured, you're part of our family now…" She trailed off, and he motioned for her to sit down on a chair against the "wall," which was actually just a thick wire mesh. He sat down on the edge of the bed, facing her.

"It's not much, but given what we're had, it's a lot," she told him apologetically. She gave him a small smile, then looked away as if she were thinking. She was clearly in the mood to talk, though he wasn't sure why. But it wasn't as though he had anywhere else to be. "I should've been dead several times over," she began suddenly.

"Ain't that the truth for us all," he replied seriously, and she looked back at him for a moment before looking down at the floor.

"I think part of the reason I'm not is, because people underestimate me." She looked up at him suddenly before continuing, her expression serious. "Don't underestimate me." It was definitely a warning.

His face reflected the confusion he felt all of a sudden. _What the fuck is she talking about? _he wondered. He managed to put his question into more polite words. "Excuse me?" he asked.

She looked at him intently. The look on her face told him that she was not afraid of him, as she had appeared to be – not just of him, but of basically everyone, including her own shadow – back at the quarry outside Atlanta. He'd also noticed since his arrival that that husband of hers wasn't around anymore, and imagined that might have had something to do with it.

"I've seen you making the rounds. Trying to play nice," she continued evenly. Footsteps echoed ever so softly in the distance as Daryl came down the steps not too far behind her, outside the "cage" they were sitting in. "If you screw this up, mess with Daryl… I will slit your throat while you sleep." Her voice was soft so that it didn't carry outside of the immediate area, and just as calm as it had been when she had been talking about how their meager food supply was a lot compared to what they'd had, or how she should have already been dead several times over.

_Where the hell did that come from? _he thought. He glanced over Carol's shoulder for a split second and saw that Daryl had stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his arms crossed, watching them. As surprised as he felt, he didn't allow it to show in his face as his eyes flicked back to hers.

He stared at her for a few more seconds before scoffing ever so slightly and smiling at her for a few seconds. His face returned to a neutral expression, but his eyes remained focused on her face. She held his gaze for a few seconds more before getting up. "Enjoy your food," she said pleasantly enough, with no trace whatsoever that she had just threatened to kill him in his sleep.

_Well I'll be damned, _he thought, more amused and surprised than anything else. _She ain't no mouse no more._

…

Carol walked calmly out of the enclosure and headed around the corner toward the kitchen area. Daryl caught up with her only a minute later, in the large common room.

"What was that about?" he asked with concern. "Merle behave himself?" He knew what an asshole his brother could be, and he didn't like the thought of him talking to Carol. He trusted Merle as far as he could throw him, no matter that they were brothers.

Carol waved her hand to signal that it had been nothing. "He was fine," she replied easily. "I brought him a tray of food since he doesn't eat with the group."

Daryl smiled slightly and shook his head. Everyone else wanted to kick Merle out of the prison and leave him for dead – and he could understand _why_ a lot of them felt that way about his brother – and here Carol was bringing him food. The woman really was too much sometimes.

"Ya sure he behaved himself?" Daryl asked skeptically.

Carol just nodded her head, unsure of whether she should admit what she'd said to him. She still couldn't quite believe it herself, and it made her smile unconsciously.

"What ya smilin' 'bout?" Daryl asked, now genuinely confused. They were talking about Merle – _Merle _– and she was _smiling_? Something didn't add up.

Carol bit her lip sheepishly. "Well… I _may_ have just told him that if he screwed things up around here, or messed with you, I'd slit his throat while he slept."

Daryl tried to react, but he couldn't get any words to come out. His mouth just hung open as he stared at her, as she stood there before him smiling sweetly. _She just said __**what**__? _

"I wouldn't really _do_ it, though…" she continued, seeing the look on his face. "Well, probably not…" she added upon further reflection. _Am I making this worse? _she wondered fleetingly. She decided that maybe she should stop talking now and wait for him to say something. She bit her lip, unsure of how he'd react. She knew the two brothers didn't get along, but they _were_ still brothers, after all. Had she gone over the line?

A grin slowly spread across Daryl's face as he considered just how far she had come since he'd met her. He shook his head, and she looked at him with a puzzled expression. He raised his eyebrows at her and said, "Ya sure are full of surprises." She relaxed then, relieved. "Guess maybe you can hold your own with Merle, huh?"

She grinned at him, obviously proud of herself. "Looks that way, doesn't it?" she replied, completely amused by the look on his face.

With that, they walked the rest of the way to the kitchen together. Merle had been right about one thing: the nickname Mouse sure didn't fit her anymore.


	49. Choices

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but you wouldn't know it from how many TWD related pictures there are on my phone… :)**

**Season 3, after episode 13**

**The Prison, Day**

Daryl stood in the guard tower, alternating between standing still while chewing the skin beside his thumbnail, and pacing the balcony. He stared at the treeline as he did both. As often as he chewed on his thumb when he was nervous, fidgety or just thinking about something, he was surprised there was any skin _left_ beside his thumbnail to bite.

Everyone seemed to have strong opinions about what to do in response to the ultimatum that the Governor had given their group, and most people had made those opinions crystal clear. The group simply could _not_ agree on whether they thought they should stay at the prison and fight, or whether they should take their chances on the road once again. Going back on the road would mean running from the certain danger of the Governor and just hoping that he wouldn't pursue them. There could be no guarantee of this, of course. The Governor had already shown himself to be cold and calculating, more so than they had thought that a human being was capable of. Both options were fraught with infinite potential for danger.

He heard the door creak open inside the tower, and assumed it was Carol. When he was on watch, she was his most frequent visitor. He was so certain that it was her that he didn't turn around until he heard footsteps that did not belong to Carol. Curious now, he turned around to see Rick approaching him. They nodded to each other, and Daryl stopped pacing, continuing to stare at the treeline. Rick came to the edge of the balcony and stood beside him.

"The group is split about what we should do now." Rick's talk with Hershel, away from the group, had allowed the older man to make the feelings of the group clear to Rick, not that there had been much confusion about where most people stood. "Merle and Michonne both think we should strike first, which doesn't surprise me at all. Carol and Hershel both think we should take our chances and get on the road. That doesn't surprise me either. Neither of them likes conflict." He sighed and shook his head tiredly.

"The others? Maggie 'n Glenn?" Daryl asked, mainly out of curiosity.

"Seems like they can see both sides. Beth too. Think they'd go along with whichever decision that we make… since both choices seem equally bad at the moment…" Rick sighed in frustration, shaking his head.

" 'N you? What do you think?" Daryl asked him, still looking out into the distance. The last thing he wanted was to be distracted from keeping watch, not now. With everything going on with the Governor, it felt like a matter of life and death.

Rick sighed again, looking out at the treeline, then rubbing his face with both hands. "This prison is a damn good place for us. More secure than anywhere we've been up til now, and I hate to give it up. I want to believe that we can defend it against the Governor and his manpower, his _firepower_… but I just don't know – how can we know that for sure? And yeah, we've survived on the road before, but now we have Hershel who can't run, and Judith… she's a damn good baby, but a baby nonetheless. We're just not as mobile as we once were. And Merle's probably right about the Governor having scouts out along the road out of here, they're probably watching for us in case we _do_ try to leave… And maybe it would be the smart thing to do… I just don't know. It feels like there's no good option."

"So we take the best of the bad ones," Daryl said simply.

"The wrong choice could cost all of our lives," Rick replied wearily.

Daryl nodded slowly. "Yeah… but so could the right one. Ain't gonna do no good to second guess ourselves."

Rick sighed heavily, the burden of leadership weighing on him.

"There's another option…" Rick began slowly. "One that I haven't told anyone else about… And I hate it, I'd love to say I wouldn't consider it… but I don't feel like I have the luxury of doing that anymore."

Daryl raised his eyebrows, wondering what other option there could possibly be besides "stay" or "go," and what could have Rick so conflicted.

"It's about Michonne…" Rick started, then broke off, looking down and shaking his head. Whatever it was, it was clearly stressing him out.

"What about her?" Daryl asked, knowing that Rick wouldn't have brought it up at all if he didn't intend to tell him. Clearly, he didn't like admitting that he was considering it, whatever this option was.

"The Governor… he wants her. Wants us to turn her over to him," Rick managed.

"Wants her… for _what_?" Daryl asked suspiciously.

"Don't know. I'm guessing revenge of some sort."

"She ain't done nothing to us. She _helped _us, complete strangers. We might never've found Glenn n' Maggie if not for her." Daryl now understood why Rick had such a bad taste in his mouth thinking about this option. It was making him feel a little sick just thinking about what Rick was proposing, and Daryl had a pretty strong stomach for the gruesome tasks that were necessary in the world in which they lived. This was just… _wrong_.

"I know, I know…" Rick repeated, leaning his arms against the railing of the balcony and looking down, shaking his head guiltily.

"We gotta do a lotta shit we don't wanna do, but… that's just wrong, man," Daryl said slowly. "There's some shit we just can't do."

"But what if it's the only way to survive?" Rick looked desperate, and Daryl truly felt for him. These weren't decisions that anyone should ever have to make.

"Let's not do nothin' hasty," Daryl replied, knowing that even though time was short, this idea needed to be given more than a few minutes' consideration. _If Dale could only hear __**this**__ conversation…_ Daryl thought, glancing up at the sky, letting out a sigh that sounded a lot like Rick's own.

"When you're done on watch, I want to talk to you and Hershel about this. I'll meet you in the courtyard," Rick told him.

Daryl nodded at him once, and Rick sighed and stood up straight. "Thanks, man," he said as he turned to go. Daryl continued to scan the treeline, wondering how they had possibly ended up where they were, and how much more fucked up things were likely to get before they got better. _If_ they got better.

…

Carol had watched Rick leave the cellblock, and wondered where he'd been heading in the dark. She'd slipped outside the door and seen the two shadows in the moonlight on the balcony of the guard tower. Something was up, and it was pretty clear that it had something to do with the situation with the Governor. She went back to her cell to rest for the time being, knowing that she'd have better luck finding out what was going on if she asked Daryl one on one.

Carol didn't have to wait too long before she heard Rick's boots echo through the prison, signaling that he had returned from the guard tower. She couldn't see him from the angle where she was sitting, but she'd long since committed the sound of the footsteps of most of the group to memory. She glanced out into the cellblock to confirm that it was indeed Rick's footsteps she had heard, and saw him walking quietly towards Hershel's cell on the lower floor. She made her way calmly back to the cellblock door and quietly let herself out.

The first thing Carol noticed when she stepped outside into the courtyard was the moonlight. For some reason that night it was unexpectedly bright. She noticed the full moon above, which seemed bigger than any full moon she could remember ever seeing. What was it they had called an especially big, full moon back when there had been "news" programs to discuss such trivial things? A super moon? She thought she recalled hearing that term before.

She shook her head at the memory, then let it slip from her mind as she walked quickly to the base of the guard tower. Overall, it wasn't often that she gave much thought to what once had been. The only exception to this rule was Sophia. She _did_ think about Sophia pretty often. It was something that brought her both happiness and sadness all at once, but she would never dream of blocking the good memories to escape the pain that accompanied them. Besides thoughts of Sophia, she didn't look back very often. The bad things that had been in her life were gone, and for that she was glad. The _good_ things that were gone… well, thinking about them wasn't going to bring them back. Rather than wallow in what used to be, it made more sense to live in the reality she now found herself in. After all, if she didn't, she wouldn't survive very long. Her current reality required constant alertness if she wanted to remain alive.

She climbed the stairs quietly and let herself into the guard tower. Daryl hadn't moved from where he'd stationed himself on the balcony, leaning on the railing and staring into the darkness at the edge of the property where the woods began.

Carol walked out and stood beside him, copying his posture as she leaned herself against the railing. He didn't looked the least bit surprised to see her. It almost seemed as if he'd been waiting for her to show up. He glanced in her direction with a small smile and a nod before returning his eyes to the treeline. She shook her head slightly, smiling to herself. Everyone was anxious, herself included, about what would happen with the Governor, how they would survive, and yet… standing here beside Daryl, Carol felt herself relax. The worries were still there, the anxiety of their reality hadn't changed… but somehow the noise in her mind faded to a whisper, and she could breathe more easily. It had to work out somehow, didn't it? Of course, she wasn't naïve enough to believe such things, not really, but somehow Daryl always brought out a calm in her that no one else could. It was addictive.

"I saw Rick out here. Everything okay?" she asked him quietly.

He breathed in deeply, considering how to proceed, how much to say, and what. What Rick had told him… it was rather shocking. However, if there was one thing that he knew, it was that Carol could be trusted. He didn't really do the whole "confiding in people" thing, but what little he had confided had been entrusted to her, and he had never regretted it.

"Rick said that the Governor gave him a way to avoid a confrontation. An 'out.' It's bad though." He continued to watch the darkness, feeling that it was somehow easier to say when he couldn't see the look that would surely spread across her face when he told her. That wasn't why he didn't look at her, though. The reality of the threat of the Governor made him worry about taking his eyes off the perimeter for more than a second at a time. He could feel her watching him, and he glanced at her for only a second before looking back out at the darkness.

He sighed, figuring he may as well tell her and get it over with. "The Governor, he… wants us to turn Michonne over to him." He heard a slight gasp from beside him, and he could see the expression on her face in his mind without looking at her. His eyes flicked to the side again for a split second, and he saw that he had been right.

"We… but we… she's… Rick wouldn't do that… would he?" Carol stuttered.

Daryl shrugged. "He hates the idea, sure don't _wanna_ do it… but he's worried about keeping everyone safe, worried that it's the only way. I don't really know what he's thinking beyond that. He wants to talk about it some more after I'm done up here. I told him not to do nothin' hasty. We could turn her over and the Governor could still decide to attack us, after all."

He wasn't looking at her face, but he could see her lean back and slip her hands around the railing, her knuckles tightening around the metal bar and the muscles in her arms growing tense, in stark contrast to how relaxed she had looked just a minute before. She exhaled loudly, then took a deep breath. She was simultaneously shocked, horrified, and angry. Mainly, she was angry. Angry at the Governor for forcing them to make these sorts of horrible choices. And slightly more uselessly, angry at whatever or whoever had set humanity down this path that had _led_ them to these horrible choices. _Slow down_, she thought to herself. _Breathe. You're here, there's nothing you can do to change that, and getting angry won't help. Focus on what _can_ be done_.

He watched her arms relax again, slipping back to their previous position as she leaned forward back onto her forearms, but this time her head dropped toward her chest and he heard her sigh. There was frustration there, exhaustion as well, anger – of course – and… sadness?

"Yeah, 's fucked up," he said in reply. She glanced back at him, a small, sad smile on her lips as she nodded slowly.

"Sure is," she replied simply.

" 'M gonna do my best to talk him outta it. Can't be doin' shit like that to people. Don't care if that means we gotta fight that asshole. 'T's not right. We do that, we're no better'n he is," he growled.

"I know you will," she told him. She turned around so that she was facing into the guard tower, leaning back against the railing and sighing again. It was only a few minutes before she stifled a yawn.

"Go and get some sleep while ya can," he told her, even though he liked having her there. She obviously needed it. His eyes were still fixed on the darkness. " 'M gonna be done here soon 'n then I'm gonna talk to Rick some more. We'll figure it out." He wanted to _believe_ that they'd figure it out.

Even without looking at her, he felt the warmth of the smile she was giving him. "Good luck," she said softly. Without thinking about it, she put her hand on his shoulder lightly as she stood back up to go. She was surprised when he didn't flinch, but she removed it anyway, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Though she would have happily stayed and kept him company in the guard tower until he was finished on watch, as she had done many times, she knew that he was right, and that she should try to sleep. Even if she only rested, it was something.

"Thanks. 'Night," he said, glancing back at her for a second, trying to look more optimistic about the whole thing than he felt.

"Good night, Daryl," she replied as she turned to go. She descended the stairs slowly, the relative calm, despite everything, that had fallen upon her in the guard tower holding, at least for now, and she wondered if she would have time to sleep just a little bit – if she'd be _able_ to sleep – before the prison awakened to another tense day. The sky was still dark, so it seemed possible. Striding quickly across the courtyard to the cellblock door, she tried not to think too much about what Daryl had told her. It was out of her control, after all. She knew how she felt about it, of course, but she knew that whatever Rick felt personally, he had the added pressure of leading the group and trying to ensure the group's safety. She certainly didn't envy him that responsibility. Still, she hoped that he would do the right thing.

Daryl glanced back briefly at Carol as she crossed the courtyard to the cellblock door. The gravity of the discussion to come still weighed upon him, but he felt the slightest bit better after having confided in her. Somehow she had always made him feel like a better person than he would ever have given himself credit for being, which in turn made him _want_ to be the better person that she saw, for whatever reason. He stared back into the darkness again, watching and listening for any signs of danger. It was going to be another very long day, and he just hoped that they would all survive to see the end of it.


	50. Stunned

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… because if I did, season 6 would be starting the weekend after Easter (breaks for holidays are to be expected).**

**Author's Note: I'm hoping that Daryl doesn't come off as OOC in this chapter, but in the scene from that the show that it builds off of (you'll recognize it quickly, I'm sure), Daryl is quite understandably traumatized and very emotional, so my thinking was that that wouldn't have just evaporated in an hour or so. I tried not to make it go overboard, though I admit I do take creative license with their emotions from time to time… :) Anyway, hope you enjoy it!**

**Season 3, episode 15**

**The Woods, Afternoon**

Daryl had come upon Michonne a short while after he'd left the prison, and she had told him that Merle had taken her, which Daryl had known from Rick was with the intention of delivering her to the Governor, but then had let her go. With this information, Daryl had suddenly gotten a bad feeling that he couldn't explain. A feeling of dread had simply washed over him, settling on him like a blanket and refusing to leave. It was the first time he had ever felt truly afraid for his brother, despite the fact that they had always said "the only thing that can kill a Dixon is a Dixon." Even in Atlanta, when they'd discovered Merle's severed hand on the rooftop, he hadn't felt this way.

Daryl wasn't sure why the fact that Merle had let Michonne _go,_ which was a positive thing, made him automatically think that something _bad_ had happened to his brother. The only explanation he could think of for his unease was that letting her go was so completely out of character for him. What _else_ had he done that wasn't like him? And where _was_ he?

Since, to his knowledge, Merle hadn't returned to the prison, Daryl was assuming that he had headed for one of two places: the meeting point where they were supposed to have delivered Michonne to the Governor, or to Woodbury itself. Both of these seemed like foolish places for Merle to go, considering that, though he had once been one of his lieutenants, Merle was now _persona non grata_ with Woodbury's leader, and the Governor wasn't exactly one to forgive and forget. Either way, Merle would have been attempting something alone – most likely some sort of ambush, knowing his brother – that the group hadn't even wanted to attempt with multiple people and careful planning. _Dammit, Merle, _Daryl thought to himself as he picked his way as quickly and quietly as possible through the trees, attempting to find signs of his brother's trail. _Why ya gotta be so fuckin' stubborn?_

Finding his brother's trail relatively easily, Daryl had headed for the abandoned feed store where they were supposed to have delivered Michonne. Daryl was relieved that the trail had led there, as it was undoubtedly the less dangerous of the two destinations. At least it wasn't a fortified, walled town, like Woodbury.

It was quiet as he approached the area, but that didn't ease the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Quiet could mean _anything_. It could mean that no one was there. It could mean that an entire armed group was there, but hiding quietly waiting for just the right moment. Or it could mean that a battle had already taken place, and that the only ones who remained were dead, whether they had become walkers, corpses, or worse… been _consumed_. It wouldn've have been the first time. The only advantage of the scene being quiet was that it wasn't drawing any _more _walkers in addition to the ones that might already be nearby.

Daryl approached an abandoned car not far from a run-down shed and larger building, the meeting place. Two walkers were munching on something, or some_one_, and didn't notice him. There were lots of corpses lying around, and he used his crossbow to shoot another walker munching on one of them. Something had happened here, he could see, and not all that long ago from the looks of it. Bile rose in Daryl's throat quickly as he considered the scene. Had these walkers just accidentally stumbled upon the people that were there waiting for his group to deliver Michonne? Herds _did_ sometimes just happen through a place at the worst possible times. Or had there been some sort of battle here, and the walkers had been the result of casualties? Or had the Woodbury folks _brought_ the walkers here on purpose, as they were known to do in Woodbury, but then lost control of the situation? Or was it something else entirely?

He looked around for clues, but it was difficult to concentrate on anything with the sound of walkers' groans and hungry slurping filling his ears. Panic was quickly beginning to line the pit of his stomach. He _knew _that something wasn't right.

And then all at once, his fears were confirmed. Daryl saw him. Merle… or rather, the walker who had _been_ Merle.

The realization hit him, _hard,_ all at once, like a speeding train. His brother hadn't survived. Merle, who had survived so many things in his life that would have killed other people multiple times over, had not made it this time. He felt the blow physically, as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs, as if he'd been punched in the stomach by someone _much_ stronger than him.

Tears began running down Daryl's cheeks without his consent. At the same time, Merle got up and staggered toward him, having detected an even fresher meal nearby that the one he'd been enjoying. Daryl watched him advance, dumbfounded. When Merle came within arm's length, Daryl pushed him back. He did this several times in a row, knowing what he was going to have to do, but simply unable to do it immediately. Finally, having mustered all of the strength he could find within himself in his current state, Daryl stabbed Merle first in the chest, then in the head. In his grief, he stabbed far more times than necessary into the head that had been his brother's. After minutes that felt like hours, exhausted, Daryl collapsed on the ground.

It wasn't often that his emotions received permission to show themselves. Daryl had learned in his early years to keep them hidden at all costs, because no matter what emotion he was feeling, showing them in front of his father or brother had only made things worse. He had learned to pretend that they weren't there at all, and because of this, had never really properly learned to deal with them. Now, however, the tidal wave of grief over his brother's death hit him harder than he would have ever expected. He sat on the ground, unable to do anything but heave breaths in and out as he fought to regain control. So many things that had been bottled up within him had been released, and at that moment, he wasn't sure he could go on.

But Daryl Dixon had never been one to give up, and he surely wasn't going to start now. _Giving up is for pussies_, Merle used to tell him. _Dixons don't never quiet._ Somehow he managed to haul himself to his feet and push himself forward. Even in the fog that filled his head, he could recognize that he was only working at partial capacity, and that if he was attacked now, he wouldn't stand a very good chance of survival. _I need to get back to the prison_, was the only thought he could produce. _I can't stay out here_. He knew that he was probably making a hell of a lot of noise as he moved, which was completely unlike him, and several times he stopped in his tracks, sure that he had heard walkers advancing on him. His instincts didn't fail him, however, and even in his grief, when he paused, he could register the silence around him, and be reassured that he was not in any immediate danger.

Finally, he made it back to the familiar woods around the prison where he'd hunted so often. Peering through the trees at the edge of the clearing around the perimeter of the outer fences, he saw a few walkers at the far end of the fence, but none near the main outer gate. As long as someone was there to _open_ the gate for him, he should have plenty of time to get inside without drawing any walkers in with him.

Their group's practice was to keep someone at that gate as long as one or more of them were outside, in case they needed to get back in in a hurry, so he hoped that today was no different in that regard. With a renewed sense of energy at having nearly made it to safety, he set off, exhausted but pushing himself, over the last stretch of ground between him and the relative safety of the prison.

Glenn had been in the guard tower when Daryl had emerged from the trees, and he had let out a shrill whistle. This got the attention of Maggie, Beth and Carol, who were in the courtyard near the cellblock doors. Beth was holding Judith and the women had been idly chatting while hoping for some news of what was going on.

Carl, who was manning the outer gate, had seen Daryl at the same time as Glenn. He waited until just before Daryl reached the gate, to be sure that nothing unwelcome would be able to come in unexpectedly along _with_ Daryl, then swung the gate open hard to let him in, closing it again as soon as he came through. Daryl, for his part, took a few steps inside the outer gate, stopping short and looking as though he might collapse. Carl, turning around from locking the gate, couldn't help but look shocked at the state of the man in front of him. He hurriedly grabbed the water bottle he'd had nearby, pushing it into Daryl's hands. Daryl swallowed it in one gulp, swiping his dirty arm across his face. He didn't say a word, and Carl still got the distinct impression that Daryl might pass out on the spot.

"You okay, Daryl?" Carl asked nervously.

Meanwhile, as soon as the reason for Glenn's whistle had become apparent – the women had figured out quickly that the tiny figure at the gate in the distance was Daryl, who had made it back – Carol had left the others and had started on her way to him, letting herself through the gate at the edge of the courtyard and walking swiftly down the long hill towards the fences.

Even from a great distance, she could tell that something was wrong. With Daryl, she could always tell. First of all, Daryl had barely dragged himself inside the outer gate. She saw him down the water that Carl had given him, then take a few more steps forward, but she could tell from how he held himself that he wasn't himself. He had only taken a few steps through the inner gate when she saw his knees buckle, and he landed on his hands and knees in the dirt. Carl had locked the inner gate and was kneeling beside him, unsure of how to help.

At that point, Carol broke into a run, concern for Daryl overtaking her. Something was clearly very wrong. It couldn't just be exhaustion. Daryl hadn't even been gone that long, and he was the one person, of everyone she'd ever met, who would stoically push themselves forward rather than collapse if it was humanly possible. It was just one of the ways in which he was stubborn beyond reason. If _Daryl_ had collapsed on the ground, something was very, very wrong. He could be injured, or bit, or… she shuddered at the thoughts, just pushed herself to move faster toward them.

Carol reached the pair as Carl continued to hover over Daryl, completely baffled at what to do. So far, Daryl hadn't uttered a word to him, so he had no information to give Carol as she approached. Carol glanced up the hill towards the prison, and saw Rick and Michonne now standing at the top of the hill with Maggie and Beth, all of them watching her. She glanced down at Daryl, looking him up and down as best she could in the position he was in. Seeing that he at least _appeared_ not to be more than superficially injured, she motioned for Carl to stand up so that she could talk to him. She put her arm around his shoulder, then walked him a few steps away from Daryl.

"Carl," she said in a quiet, gentle voice, "go and tell your dad that Daryl's back, though he can probably see that from where he is. I'm not sure what happened, he's definitely shaken up, but I don't think he's hurt badly. You don't have to run, just walk normally. I'm going to try to talk to Daryl before I get him up. Tell your dad that unless I signal to him, everything is okay. I'll let him know if I need help getting Daryl back up the hill. I just need them to give us a few minutes to talk. Alright?" She knew that Daryl hated accepting help, and that she stood the best chance out of all of them of getting back up to the prison building unless extra physical strength was needed.

Carl nodded solemnly and turned to walk up the hill.

Carol turned back to Daryl. She walked the few steps back towards him, noticing that he was now sitting with his legs crossed. She knelt down in the dirt in front of him. He didn't respond to her presence, just sat, head down to his chest, breathing heavily. "Daryl," she whispered. "Are you alright?" He took a ragged breath, then exhaled slowly.

"Merle," he whispered.

"You found him?" she asked gently. She understood immediately that there were only a few possible scenarios that could have taken place to get him this upset, and her heart ached for him. Despite everything, all of the baggage between the brothers, they were still brothers, and Daryl did love him.

Daryl nodded slightly. There were no tears on his face, but she could see the tracks through the dirt on his face that his earlier tears had left. "Was he…?" she began, trying to assess the situation, hating that she had to make him talk about it, and hating to see him hurting like he was.

"Guessin' someone led a buncha walkers to the meeting place the son of a bitch wanted us to bring Michonne to," Daryl said suddenly, his voice still raspy with emotion. "Either Merle or the Governor. Looked like it'd been an ambush. Everybody still there was dead. Dunno if anyone got out alive, but there was a lotta corpses there. 'N walkers…" He stopped, inhaling sharply, before exhaling slowly again.

Carol sighed heavily and bit her bottom lip, hating that Daryl had had to see his brother that way. It was a harsh reality of the world in which they lived, but that didn't make it any easier when someone had to confront a loved one who had turned, much less when they had to put them down themselves. She knew the feeling first hand, though thankfully she hadn't had to do that for Sophia herself. No matter how tough a person was, it was bound to break them.

She took a deep breath, unsure of how best to handle this, knowing that there was really nothing that she could do besides offer her support. She glanced over her shoulder up the hill, and saw Carl nearing the top, Rick and the others who had gathered outside standing nearby to hear what was going on. She looked back at Daryl, moving around so that she was kneeling on his left side. Slowly, almost as if in slow motion, she reached her right hand up and gingerly set it on his shoulder. He didn't move or flinch, not so much as a muscle.

"I'm so sorry, Daryl," she whispered. He choked out a hoarse breath that may have been intended to have been a word, she wasn't sure. He was completely still for a moment, then, without warning, she felt him lean towards her, not hard enough to knock her over, but with enough force that she had to brace herself with her left hand on the ground to remain upright. Her right hand slipped across his back as he got closer to her, almost touching his right shoulder. Once she stabilized herself, she put her left hand gently on top of his left hand, which had been sitting loosely against his left knee. It was like an awkward partial hug, and he gradually relaxed, exhaling slowly, and then finally letting his head fall against her right shoulder.

There was really nothing to be said or done. She was all too familiar with the feeling that Daryl was experiencing, which may have been why her heart ached so much for him. Of course, she was naturally compassionate, and concerns of others always tended to become her own. Something like this was just so much more, however, to the point where both of them were overwhelmed. They sat there just like that for a while, hot and dusty and oblivious to anything else in the world. Every once in a while she felt him inhale quickly, then immediately try to regain control and most of the time, exhaling more slowly afterwards. Slowly, those gasps became fewer and farther between.

"Daryl," Carol said quietly, "let's get up and go inside. You need some water, a rest." It was the kind of thing that Daryl would have refused any other time, insisting that he was fine. This time, however, he just nodded weakly. He lifted his head off her shoulder, looking at her sheepishly.

"Sorry," he mumbled quietly, suddenly self-conscious.

She smiled at him warmly. "_Stop_," she told him, in the same familiar tone he always used when _he _said it to her. He didn't smile, barely changed his expression, but she could see that he'd caught it. No one else probably would have noticed, but she saw it in his eyes.

"Come on," she said, putting the hand that had been on his shoulder on the ground to push herself to her feet, then tugging gently on his left hand, which she was still holding in hers. He groaned slightly as he slowly pushed himself to his feet, and their clasped hands dropped.

Carol wanted to suggest that Daryl give the crossbow to her to carry, but she was pretty sure that he would reject this idea, so she let it go. She stood on his left, winding her right arm gently around his waist and urging him slowly forward. His left arm naturally found her shoulder as well, and he didn't resist the contact, exhausted as he was. On the contrary, he was glad for it, in a way, convinced that he wouldn't have made it up the hill without the momentum of her steps. He was glad that it was Carol who was there, because he probably would have rejected that much contact from anyone else, even in his current state.

The fact that it hadn't been so very long ago that Rick had done exactly the same thing for Carol after having told her, in the exact same spot by the gate, that Daryl had found Merle and the two of them had "gone off" together, that he wasn't coming back, was not lost on her. It was hard to know exactly, but it seemed to her that she may have been nearly as devastated that day as Daryl was at that moment.

They walked slowly up the hill, both of them with their heads down, looking only at the ground in front of them. Daryl took slow, heavy steps and Carol focused on matching his pace, trying to push just enough that they kept moving forward, which wasn't easy when he outweighed her by so much. Eventually they neared the top of the hill and she heard the low, murmured voices of the others. She lifted her head slowly in their direction, attempting a look that would convey "ok" and "not ok" at the same time. It was most easily likened to a grimace. Rick opened the gate at the top of the hill, letting them through before closing it again.

The pair stopped a few feet inside the gate. Rick stepped forward but then stopped, studying them tentatively. "He okay?" he asked in a voice that was barely a whisper, looking at Carol. Daryl was still looking down at the ground, oblivious to their presence and to most of the world.

Carol grimaced again, nodding slowly and closing her eyes for a few seconds. Looking back up at Rick, she mouthed the word, "Merle." Rick nodded. The details could come later.

"We're just going to go inside, get him some water and let him sit down," Carol said to the group. They nodded quietly, knowing that it wasn't the time to ask questions. "Come on, Daryl, we're almost there," she told him soothingly, urging him forward once more.

He knew that they were watching him, all of them, but he found that for once, he didn't care. Usually he hated feeling weak, feeling people watching him the way they were watching him right now. He always hated the idea of not being able to fend for himself, of depending on anyone else for, well, anything really. All he'd done since he was a kid was fend for himself, with the occasional help from Merle. Carol had been slowly breaking that wall down since he'd met her, but the position that he found himself in now – accepting this much help – it would not have happened had he been in a stronger mental state and able to refuse it. Right now, however, it was almost as though he was outside his own body, watching someone else leaning against Carol for support. He focused on the soothing tone of her voice and allowed her to continue steering him, though he wasn't exactly sure where they were going. It didn't matter, really.

Slowly, one step at a time, she got him up the stairs to the cellblock and worked their way upstairs. She helped him sit down on the bottom bunk in the cell beside hers, knowing that he usually preferred his perch, but thinking that this time he might appreciate some privacy.

She crouched down in front of him, trying to put herself in his line of sight, but he was looking at the ground, his eyes practically closed, so it was impossible. "Daryl, I'm going to go get you some water," she told him. "I'll be right back." She knew that he was an adult and didn't want to think of what she was doing as babying him. She just remembered the day that Sophia had come out of the barn, and how completely stunned she'd been. She wasn't going to stay with him if he didn't want her to, but she wouldn't feel right having him feel like she was abandoning him.

_You're overthinking it,_ she told herself, but she couldn't help it.

_Right, water._ She headed to the kitchen area and grabbed several bottles of water, then worked her way quickly back up to the cell where she'd left Daryl. When she reached the doorway, she stopped and looked at him, shaking her head slightly. In just those few minutes that she'd been gone, he'd managed to shift himself off the bed and was now sitting on the cold, hard floor with his back against the wall opposite the bed, having almost pushed himself into the corner. She set the water bottles down on the floor not far from where Daryl sat, then took a few steps to the bed and grabbed the thin blanket that was folded at one end. She walked the short distance to where Daryl was now sitting on the floor and spread the blanket out, draping it over his legs. It wouldn't do much good, but it was all she had to offer besides the water, and of course, her company. He looked up slowly at her then, unexpectedly, an expression of pleading in his eyes. He didn't say a word, but he didn't have to. She turned so she was leaning her back up against the same wall he was leaning on, then slid down it until she was sitting next to him, her shoulder pressing against his ever so gently. Just enough that he could feel her there beside him.

Then, remembering the water bottles, she reached over and grabbed them from where she'd left them a few feet away, making sure that she sat back up to the same position. She held one out to him, setting the other one down on the floor on the opposite side of her. "Here," she said in a voice that was almost a whisper. Until that second, she hadn't realized the significance of what she was doing, and the reversal that it represented in their relationship. _How many times had __**he**__ brought __**her**__ water? Back in the early days, when they'd been at the camp by the quarry… After Ed was gone… And then on the interstate… After Sophia had disappeared…_

There had simply been so many times when she'd sat, consumed by grief, when he had brought her a bottle of water and sat beside her, and to her it had been the difference between falling into a bottomless abyss of despair and managing to keep her head above water. No, she couldn't remember how many times it had happened, she remembered only that at the time, it had been the kindest thing she could recall anyone ever doing for her, and that it had represented to her that she wasn't completely alone in the world, as she had felt that she was. The water, of course, though necessary for survival, was really only symbolic.

"I guess it's my turn to bring _you_ the water," she remarked softly as she held out the bottle to him. She hadn't expected a response, so she was surprised when she heard him mumbling something as he took the bottle from her. She turned her head towards him and raised her eyebrows questioningly, silently asking him to repeat himself. Daryl tried to clear his throat before attempting to choke out the words again.

" 'Bout time," he mumbled, his face expressionless.

Most other people would've taken that as Daryl acting like his old, anti-social self, since there wasn't a hint of humor in his voice. But Carol knew better. She knew_ him_ better.

A smile spread slowly across her face and she pushed her shoulder playfully against his to show she'd gotten his joke. She knew then without a doubt that despite the trauma that he had witnessed that day, Daryl would be okay. After all, they still had each other.

Besides, it had never _really _been about the water.


	51. Everything

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… though I did assign the characters to guard the peeps on my dining room table from any invaders (walkers, children, etc) today. :) (I have way too much fun with those Pop Vinyl dolls)**

**Season 3, episode 16**

**The Prison, Early Morning**

The Governor was coming, that much was for sure. Not only had Rick failed to deliver Michonne to him, but Merle had singlehandedly (everyone had groaned at the use of this pun, which had been used when Daryl was _not _around) ambushed the Woodbury people using one of their own favorite weapons – walkers. After all that, if the Governor was still alive, there would certainly be hell to pay. They'd accepted this as inevitable, and decided that they would be ready for it. No way were they going to surrender to this psychopath. The group had finally decided, after much back and forth, to stay and fight rather than go back on the road voluntarily – for as long as staying at the prison was still feasible, at least. Places like that, with relatively secure thick walls and perimeter fences, were just too few and far between for them to give it up by choice.

It seemed that in this world, life never slowed down to cut them a break. If anything, it only picked up speed as they went. There were two speeds at which things moved now: fast and _faster._ There was no "down time," mental or physical, for any of them. Daryl had only stumbled across his dead brother, now a walker, the previous day. Now here they were making final preparations for the ambush of the Woodbury group at the prison, and Daryl couldn't just take a day off to grieve. Of course, this wasn't any different than after they'd lost anyone else, which had happened _far _too many times before. There was just _never_ enough time, either while people were still living or after they'd stopped.

The Woodbury group's unwelcome arrival was, undoubtedly, not far off, and the group at the prison was busy making preparations. It felt as though they were leaving, the way they were packing their things for safekeeping, and they intended for it to look that way. Still, it felt strange to even be pretending to leave, since the prison had become their home. There was an excess of nervous anticipation and anxiousness in the air as the group moved around, like bees buzzing around on a field of wild flowers. There was just so much to be done.

As the others remained in this constant state of motion, Daryl sat on the ground in the courtyard by his motorcycle, tucked between it and a brick wall, oblivious to the hubbub. He had already cleaned, checked and rechecked his crossbow. Now he was checking his arrows, making sure they weren't cracked or in any way defective. He'd even had a chance to make a few more, an easy task for him, one that kept his hands busy and required little to no concentration. On the contrary, he was confident that if pressed, he could have made them in his sleep.

There were so many important things to be done to get them ready, and yet, not far away Carol suddenly found herself standing and watching Daryl as people continued their activity around her. She'd sat with him on the cold, hard floor against the wall of the prison cell the afternoon before, and well into the evening – mostly just sitting in silence – until they'd both actually started falling asleep where they sat. It had reminded her of the nights back at the farm when they'd fallen asleep by the campfire because she hadn't wanted to, or hadn't been able to, sleep in her tent and be left alone with her demons. Those had been the nights when he'd sat up with her, fallen asleep beside her, without a second thought. She'd needed him there, so he was there. There was nothing to think about. It wasn't something they'd ever talked about, but it went without saying in the same way that she wasn't leaving his side on the prison cell floor unless that was what he wanted. Sure, the cold floor of the prison wasn't quite as comfortable as the warmth that had been provided by the campfire, but that didn't matter. The fire hadn't been the source of the comfort she'd been seeking anyway, just a little bonus.

Finally though, after many hours spent on the floor, she'd convinced him to get up and settle onto the bed. He had looked so lost, so unlike himself. She'd pulled the single chair from the other side of the room so she could sit beside the bed, staying nearby until he fell asleep. It hadn't taken long. She'd left the room reluctantly, but there was nothing else she could do. Falling asleep next to each other, stretched out on the hard ground by a campfire near their tents on the farm, was one thing. Sleeping on the cold cement floor when there were available beds three feet away was silly, and far less comfortable. As much as she hated to leave his side, sleeping in the chair was impractical… and those beds… well, sharing the ground next to someone was just a lot different that sharing a twin sized mattress, no matter how innocently. The idea itself was just too awkward. As close as they were, and as much as she hated to leave his side, staying just wasn't an option. She consoled herself with the knowledge that she wasn't going far, just the other side of the wall.

She had been somewhat nervous that the events of the day would cause her old nightmares to resurface, but when she had finally retired to her own bed in the cell next door, she had fallen fast asleep and slept soundly until dawn, not dreaming of anything at all that she could remember. Even Daryl had seemed rested and at least a little less traumatized the next morning, more like himself – though still even quieter and more reserved than normal – after a night's sleep. This was a good thing considering the day they knew they were going to be having. All things considered, it was really the best they could hope for.

As Carol stood in the courtyard and watched Daryl sitting on the ground by his motorcycle, getting his things organized, she couldn't help but marvel at how far both of them had come since the beginning. It wasn't the first time she'd had this realization, but it struck her every time. Of course, she could most easily recognize how she herself had changed. No one in their right minds would accuse her of being the person she had been back at the quarry. She liked to think about that person, that version of Carol, as a completely different person, as though it had been a previous life. That Carol had long since been burned away, to leave her current incarnation in its place. She now chose who she would be, instead of letting anyone else choose for her.

The changes in Daryl were just as dramatically noticeable, and not just the physical ones. Yes, his hair was longer and he was more muscular. But besides that, he was no longer the angry loner who lashed out at random and avoided contact with people around him as much as possible. He had become an important team member, and he cared about the people around him – though he still needed his space sometimes. After a lifetime of thinking of family as people who were supposed to care, but didn't ever seem to, he finally understood why being a family was a good thing. This group was family, but in the way a family was supposed to be. Like Carol, he had trouble believing that he was the same Daryl who had joined the group at the quarry. It seemed like lifetimes ago.

It was almost as if their transformations had been linked… and maybe they _had_ been. They had certainly occurred side by side, if nothing else. This wasn't to say that others in the group hadn't changed over time, because they had all changed somehow. They hadn't had a choice. This new, harsh and brutal life of theirs had a way of ensuring that everyone changed. She felt that the two of them, however, had perhaps changed the most.

After a few minutes she shook her head to break the reverie she was caught in. There was too much to be done to get lost in thought now. She took a few steps forward towards Daryl, ending up a few feet from his left shoulder.

"You know, Merle never did nothing like that his whole life," he said as she approached him, sounding slightly in awe of his brother.

"He gave us a chance," she replied. Merle had been so difficult to like, but she had tried. Her natural compassion had been tested, but she had always tried. After what they had worked out that Merle had done for the group, she had found a whole new appreciation for him. He had proven that there was more to him than many people had given him credit for, in the end.

Carol held out her gloved right hand to Daryl, flicking her fingers towards her palm to indicate that he should take it, silently telling him that it was time to stand up and be ready to go. He took her hand with his left and she pulled him up to stand. Once he was on his feet their hands remained joined for just a second or two longer than necessary as they stood and just looked at each other. They were doing it again. It wasn't a look that said anything specific, and at the same time, it was a look that said _everything. _Somehow a lot of the communication between them had always happened like that – almost through brainwaves. Then at the same time their hands dropped, and she turned and walked away from him. It was time for her to get back to the task at hand, which today happened to be getting ready to help the group survive an attack.

He picked up his poncho, arrows and crossbow. Life was going on, and that was just the way things worked now… but he was ready for it.

...

The Governor and his men had arrived, as the prison group had known that they would, and Rick's group had left the gates open for them. They would have mowed them down anyway. Everything in and around the prison had been still and had looked deserted, and the Woodbury group had wandered farther and farther inside in search of a sign of them. It wasn't until they were all the way in that Rick's group had attacked, which had been their plan all along.

By then the inhabitants of the prison had had several important things on their side. First, they'd had the element of surprise. Besides that, they had a vastly superior knowledge of the layout of the prison, which the invaders didn't, leaving the strangers vulnerable and confused. Finally, the prison group had had the advantage, in the confined and controlled space of the prison, of being able to funnel their enemies the directions they wanted them to go, thanks to the many narrow passageways and locked doors and gates that the prison was designed with.

These facts had combined to give the smaller group the advantage, and they were able to drive the invaders out. When it was all over, and the Governor and his army had retreated, Rick and the others had looked out from the view inside the inner fences at the edge of the courtyard, over an open field of walkers lurching and stumbling, smoke rising from the guard towers that had been blown up. A great deal of irreparable damage had been done, and yet, they were still standing there, alive, while the Governor and his remaining forces had fled. That alone made it a victory.

A little while later, Carol and Beth were at the fence, skewering walkers through the holes. There were some things that never changed anymore, and while it seemed like a never ending task, this unpleasant job was as necessary as it had ever been. It was the same reason they'd done this at the perimeter of the property so many times: they had to keep the concentration of walkers around the fences down or the fences wouldn't hold. Daryl approached the women slowly, stopping a few feet behind Carol as she worked swiftly, not wanting to be an accidental casualty. Beth moved down the fence line towards the stragglers who were working their way from the far end.

Carol finished taking care of the walkers that were immediately in front of her, then paused, catching her breath. She knew that he was standing behind her, but she took a minute to look out over the area surrounding the fence. It was only the towers that were smoking, but the smoke drifted in the wind and it made it look like the whole field had been on fire. The walkers who had filled the field would be put down and the area between the fences would be cleaned out, _again_, but for now the devastation was glaringly obvious. They had done it once and could do it again, and yet, at that moment it felt overwhelming. Daryl took a few steps forward to stand beside her at the fence.

"You're going with him," she confirmed. She didn't even need to ask. She knew that Rick was going to Woodbury, and knew that if he was going, Daryl would be as well. Though some of them considered this whole thing finished when the Governor had retreated, the rest of them knew better. It wouldn't be finished until the Governor was dead, so that was what they were hoping to accomplish.

He nodded, and she saw the motion out of the corner of her eyes, still facing forward. She pursed her lips, nodding slowly. If anyone should be there with Rick to give him a fighting chance, it was Daryl. Still, it was dangerous. _Everything_ these days was dangerous. They all knew that, knew the risks involved, there was simply no choice. The Governor was not going to stop, and so he had to _be_ stopped.

"Who else?" she asked.

"Michonne," he mumbled. She was glad. Michonne was definitely someone you'd want to have your back in a dangerous situation. That sword of hers was lethal. The three of them stood a decent chance of success, or as decent a chance as was possible.

"The others're stayin behind," he added. "Just in case."

She turned to look at him then. He was looking out over the field of bodies before them, but turned slightly to meet her eyes. She bit her bottom lip, a nervous habit, and he nodded. It took her a minute to register the exchange that had just passed between them, but when she did, she smiled slightly. It was almost as if they had developed their own nonverbal code, though they had never actively tried to do so. They just understood each other somehow.

"I don't…" she started, frowning, but stopped herself. Looking back out at the field in front of them, she almost looked like she was pouting. She sighed heavily. She didn't like it. She didn't want him to go. She didn't want _any_ of them to go. She didn't want anything to happen to him, to any of them. She didn't want to think about the hundreds of ways their mission could go wrong. There were so many things that she _didn't _want… and she didn't want to _say_ any of those things, because there was no choice, and it would sound ridiculous, childish. Every second that she thought about it, she hated the Governor more for making their lives so difficult.

He almost chuckled, watching the wheels turn in her head. Sometimes he wondered how he could read her so well, but most of the time he didn't bother to worry about it, just accepted it. "Yeah, I don't like it either."

She took a step forward, leaning her forehead against the chain link fence, the fingers on her left hand curling tightly around the metal. Closing her eyes, she let out another heavy sigh. "I hate him," she said quietly, her voice suddenly dripping with anger.

Without missing a beat, he replied, "We all do, but it don't help." He sounded so calm, and she opened her eyes and looked back at him in surprise. He just shrugged. "Ain't nothin' else we can do, 'sides what we're doin'." She turned back around to face him, stepping away from the fence instinctively and nodding slowly. They heard the voices of the others grow louder as Rick and Michonne geared up to leave, waiting only on Daryl.

He looked over his shoulder at them, then back at her. He would've liked to stay where he was, of course, but time was short. Time was _always _short. The corners of his mouth turned up at her slightly. "Stay safe," he said, his voice the same gravely rumble as always. It was as soothing to her as it had always been, and she wished in vain that he wasn't going to Woodbury, marching on the front lines straight into danger, just like he always did, and always had.

"Nine lives, remember?" she replied automatically. They'd exchanged the words so many times, there was something comforting about the familiar script, as if it was the ritual itself that kept bringing him home safely.

He nodded slightly. "Take care of 'em, like ya always do." She nodded back at him, forcing a small smile. She wasn't going to argue that she was fairly sure that it wasn't her who took care of everyone, because she knew that she would lose that argument with Daryl. She would do her part, as always, whatever was required of her. She'd do almost anything for them. They were her family, after all.

He glanced at her and nodded once more before turning and walking back towards Rick and Michonne, who were standing by the car, ready to move out. She sighed heavily, feeling a tug at her heart, but turned back to the fences and the walkers who had ambled over towards her while she'd talked to Daryl. She stabbed at them with renewed energy, channeling the frustration that she felt at the current situation, the Governor… all of it. Beth was working her way back down the fence line towards her, leaving a trail of "dead" walkers in her wake.

Together, Carol and Beth stabbed at the walkers by the gate with increased vigor as they heard the engines of the car and of Daryl's motorcycle rumble to life, ready to ensure that their way through was clear. The gate squealed loudly as Maggie and Glenn yanked it open for the convoy to pass through, then, after Carol killed the closest walker with a particularly gruesome swipe of her machete-like large knife to the top of the head, closed it again before any of the walkers on the other side of the fence had a chance to join them in the courtyard. She kept her eyes on the vehicles even as she continued to stab walkers through the fence, until they had passed through the outer fence line, where the gate was still open, and continued to watch them until they were out of sight. Then she returned her full focus back to the walkers in front of her. As Beth was fond of saying, _they all had jobs to do_.

**Author's Note: And so ends season 3. There's still so many things I'm looking forward to writing… and with season 5 now officially over on the show, I'm estimating that I'm going to catch up with where season 5 left off by July… so we'll see. It definitely won't take me til October, I know that much, because I enjoy writing this story far too much to spread the chapters out any more than is absolutely necessary. But we'll deal with that problem when we get there. Thanks for staying with me this far. See you all soon to start season 4!**


	52. Stillness

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… playing with the characters like this is just some kind of therapy for me, especially now that we're facing another six months before season 6 starts! :(**

**Author's Note: When I finished the previous chapter I hadn't yet gone back to rewatch the first episode of season 4 to make my notes, as I do before I decide what my deleted scenes will be. When I did, I was reminded how much the dynamic seemed to have changed between Carol and Daryl between the season 3 finale and the season 4 premiere. This change seemed to scream out to me to be explained, so here I am, writing a few (haven't decided how many) deleted scenes to go between the seasons once again. It appears that there are 30 days that are supposed to pass between the two seasons (thus the title of the s4 premiere, "30 Days Without an Accident"), so the next few chapters will take place during that time. Also, I'm sorry for the delay in getting this chapter posted. I think this is the longest I've gone between chapters since I started this story. Things got busy, and I had a major update to the other story that I'm working on. Anyway, I hope you like this one.**

**During the 30 Days Between Seasons 3 and 4**

**The Prison, Dawn**

Rick, Daryl and Michonne had gone to Woodbury to finish things. Sadly, they'd come back without Andrea, but with a large number of Woodbury residents, including Karen, Sasha and Tyreese. Rick had relinquished his role as leader to the newly formed council (composed of Daryl, Glenn, Carol, Sasha and Hershel) for the time being, and had allowed Hershel to teach him to be a farmer. The Governor and his two henchmen, Martinez and Schumpert were still at large, as far as anyone knew, their whereabouts unknown. In short, things were changing at the prison. It seemed that the change was for the better, however, the main gnawing doubt about their safety was the fact that the Governor was still out there somewhere. While there was no guarantee that he was still alive, he had proven resourceful enough so far that it seemed foolish to assume that he wasn't a threat unless they could verify for themselves that he was dead.

Michonne, who had been the one most affected by Andrea's death at the hands of the Governor, was out for blood. Almost immediately after the caravan had returned from Woodbury, she'd set off on her own in search of him. She may not have had formal training with a katana, but she certainly wielded it like a samurai. It seemed like if anyone could find him, it would be her. She came back from time to time, sometimes bringing things that she knew that Rick or Carl would like or could use. Her report was always the same: she hadn't found the Governor.

All in all, life was busy. There was never enough of so many things: mainly time, but also energy, daylight, and if they weren't careful, food and other resources that they were constantly scavenging for.

It was early morning, even before the sun came up, when Carol opened her eyes, lingering in her bed and listening to the quiet of the prison for a precious few seconds before pushing the thin blanket off of her and forcing herself out of bed. She heard only the tiniest of rustling sounds from nearby, and knew that it must be Daryl, who would also be getting up and ready. He'd asked her the evening before if she'd go on a run with him that day. While runs weren't something that she was generally involved in, it wasn't because she wasn't capable. She had come a long way since the beginning, and she was more than able to defend herself from walkers.

Now, however, most of the people who generally went on runs were otherwise occupied. Michonne was out searching for the Governor, Tyreese, Sasha and Bob had been spooked by their ill-fated run to Big Spot, Rick was playing farmer, Glenn wanted Maggie to stay at the prison after what had happened at Woodbury, and wanted to remain with her for her protection in case anything happened. Carol didn't mind stepping in whatsoever. On the contrary, she was excited to be outside of the prison fences for the first time in so long. Maggie and Beth would be able to help with the cooking and Story Hour – though just the story part, not the knife training, of course – in Carol's absence, and Daryl didn't expect them to be gone longer than just the day. Basically, Carol going on the run with Daryl just made a lot of sense, for lots of reasons. Besides that, but it would give them a little time together, which had been rare lately. Though they saw each other every day, they didn't get a lot of time to actually spend together, and they had both missed it.

They had planned to leave as early as possible. The shopping center that they needed to hit was almost two hours away. A few of the others had passed it on the way back from another run to a larger shopping center in that direction a few days before, and had reported that it appeared to be undisturbed, with only a few walkers in the area. If that was still true, it could be great news, and worth the drive. They were having to drive farther and farther to find stores that hadn't already been raided lately, and they hated to think what that meant for them in the future. But for the time being, until supplies became a hardship, they made the best of it.

Since they had decided that two of them could handle the run on their own, it being a small shopping center, they could get by only taking one car. This would save on gas. There was no telling what quantity of supplies they would find there, but the shopping center was small enough, and the SUV was large enough, that they hoped that the one vehicle would be enough to bring back everything useful that they found. The whole thing seemed too good to be true, but considering their need, it was definitely worth investigating.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon when they got into the SUV. Daryl was in the driver's seat. After locking the gate around the courtyard behind them, they passed Glenn on watch, and Rick opened both of the outer gates for them, locking them after the car passed through. They waved to him one last time, and in another moment the prison disappeared from view, obstructed by trees as they drove along the road that wound through the woods just outside of the perimeter fences.

Though she knew that the danger of going on runs like these was real, Carol had been looking forward to it ever since the previous night. She'd been inside the prison walls for what felt like a long time, and had watched him go in and out – to Woodbury, on runs, or just out hunting – countless times since then. Not only was she looking forward to being outside the walls, but she was happy to be going with _him_. Even after all the time they'd known each other there was still no easy way to figure out what was between them. All she knew was that she enjoyed his company over anyone else's, and felt like she could tell him things that she couldn't tell anyone else. She didn't know how he felt. Sometimes it seemed like there was something else there – like he wanted there to be more – and other times she was sure that she was just inventing the idea because deep down, she _wished _that there was more. All she knew for sure was that she couldn't lose what they had, because what they had was so special… and if what they had just then was all they were supposed to have, then she still considered herself lucky. After all, it had taken the end of the world for her to find Daryl, and there was no way she would ever get that lucky a second time. She watched the woods fly past outside her window, catching the occasional glint of sunlight through the trees, and smiled happily, lost in her thoughts.

He glanced over at her, the sun's rays flashing in between the trees here and there as they drove. She was staring out the window and appeared to be lost in thought, a slight smile on her face. Whatever she was thinking, it was making her happy. He liked to see her like that. Since he'd known her, he'd had so many occasions to witness her in excruciating pain – psychological more than physical – and it always hurt him to see her that way. The look on her face now was what he would call serene, and in the walker filled world in which they lived, that kind of tranquility was rare. He wanted to ask her what she was thinking about, but he didn't want to break the spell. It seemed cruel to pull her out of the thoughts that made her look so happy, back into the real world and all of the ugliness that came with it. He contented himself to continue driving, double checking the fuel gauge once in a while, and stealing glances at her in between. He couldn't help but smile to himself each time he looked at her. He was just happy to see her looking so happy.

They'd been driving for a while when she became aware of him watching her. She glanced back at him and caught him, which only caused her smile to broaden. "What?" she asked good naturedly as his eyes darted back to the road.

"Nothin'," he mumbled, embarrassed at having been caught. "Just tryin' to figure out what you're thinkin' about that made you look so happy."

She blushed slightly. "I know it's silly, because what we're doing is dangerous, but I was thinking about how happy I am to be on this run. Outside the prison, away from everything. It's the closest thing there is to a vacation anymore…" She grinned and chuckled to herself. "It's not the same, I know… but this kinda reminds me of road trips I took with my family when I was young. I remember them as being so much fun." She made a conscious decision _not_ to think about all the ways her last comment could have made her sad if she had chosen to allow it. Her family, of course, was long gone, along with the carefree life of her youth. Of course, they had been for some time. But to balance that out, Ed was gone as well, and she was here with Daryl. No, things were the way they were, and she was going to choose to see only the positive at that moment.

He chuckled and shook his head at her. "Ain't never been on no 'road trip,' but Merle 'n I did our fair share of drivin'. Can't say I'd call it fun though, listenin' to Merle for hours on end, cussin' out the other drivers." He then launched into a very colorful impersonation of Merle, and from what Carol remembered of his brother, it seemed pretty accurate.

She laughed again, and before she realized what she was saying, she said, "Yeah, that sounds just like…" When she realized that she was about to say Ed's name, she stopped abruptly, looking down. He glanced at her and saw that the smile had disappeared.

"Bastard ain't here," he said simply, his voice softer than it had been a minute before. " 'N if he was, I'd a beaten his ass long ago." Carol couldn't help but smile just a little at his comment. From what she'd learned about Daryl over time, she didn't doubt it one bit. She'd felt safe with him from the beginning.

"Never took a road trip, huh? What's the farthest from home you've been?" she asked, suddenly very interested, and happy to change the subject.

He tilted his head slightly as he tried to think about the answer. "Uh, dunno. Been all over most parts of Georgia…" He shrugged.

"Never outside of Georgia?" she asked in surprise.

"Nope. Never had no reason to go no farther," he said simply, shrugging. "Just tagged along with Merle wherever he said he needed to go." He paused for a minute, then asked, "What 'bout you?" She'd seemed surprised by his answer, so he figured she'd been all over the place.

"Lots of places," she said, the smile returning once more as she thought about it. "We took at least one road trip every summer – _my_ family I mean, not… _him_." She didn't need to explain who she was talking about. "Sometimes more. Anywhere you could drive to in a couple days… My parents loved the adventure of it. Seeing new places, meeting new people…" Her mind wandered off for a moment, but came back before he had a chance to wonder where she'd gone. "My favorite was always the beach though, no matter which one it was. There's just something about the ocean. It's so… calming." She looked over at him, smiling, and he couldn't help but smile back. She looked so happy just then.

"Unfortunately we ain't goin' to the beach this time," he replied. "But who the hell knows? Maybe you'll see it again someday. Maybe we'll get out that way. We're… what? Maybe a couple hours from the coast…?" She nodded her agreement at his estimate. The fact that he'd said "we" hadn't been lost on her, and her smile broadened again. It was almost as though he had the sun right there in the car with him, her smile was so bright.

"That sounds good, huh?" he asked, assuming she looked so happy at the idea of someday getting back to the beach.

"You're thinking of coming to the beach with me one day?" she asked teasingly. She knew the reaction she was going to get, and she got it. He blushed, as he usually did when she said something to him in that tone, shaking his head at her once again.

"Well, reckon I don't got nowhere to else to be," he began slowly. " 'Sides, can't let ya go wanderin' off alone…" His expression hadn't changed, hadn't betrayed him, but the tone of his voice did, as it _always _did when he talked to her, it seemed.

She was looking at him and smiling, and then the next second she had turned back to look out the front window, her eyes returning to the road only a second before his.

"DARYL!" she shrieked suddenly, her right hand flying to the door handle and her eyes immediately closing to brace for impact. Daryl gasped, without even enough time to utter any of the string of curse words that flashed through his mind, his foot hitting the break for dear life. The screech of the tires filled their ears as they felt themselves flung forward against the seatbelts, almost knocking the air from both of their lungs.

And then suddenly, stillness.


	53. Dazed

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… **

**Author's Note: Sorry for the cliffhanger last time, I just couldn't resist… but you know they didn't die, because they were alive in seasons 4 and 5… :) Anyway, here's the next part of the story. Enjoy!**

**During the 30 Days Between Seasons 3 and 4**

**A Deserted Back Road, Morning**

After the screeching of brakes, the pounding of his heartbeat and the shriek of Carol yelling his name a few seconds before, the seconds after their car _didn't _hit the large deer that had parked itself in the middle of the road were almost deafening in their silence. The airbags hadn't inflated, for whatever reason, and he was fairly sure he had some degree of whiplash from being thrown forward and back so quickly and with such force. They sat, barely blinking, for a few seconds, barely able to believe that they were alive at all.

After facing forward and giving the deer in front of them his best murderous look for nearly costing them their lives, Daryl began to slowly recover from the shock of their very sudden stop. He turned slowly and looked at Carol, who appeared as dazed as he felt. His throat felt tight and it was as though all of the moisture had been somehow sucked out of his mouth. He tried to speak, to say Carol's name, but no sound would come out. Instead, he tentatively reached over and put his hand on her shoulder.

Carol was breathing hard, staring at the deer that couldn't be more than an inch from the hood of the car. It had been a close call – much too close. She was still clutching the handle with her right hand, so hard that her knuckles were almost numb. She allowed her fingers to slowly relax as she took stock of the various parts of her body one by one. Her head, while she _did_ feel lightheaded, didn't feel as though it had actually struck anything. She was just beginning to recover from the shock of their brush with death when she felt Daryl's hand gently rest on her shoulder, and remembered that he was sitting beside her.

She turned her head slowly towards him, almost in slow motion. They were both still working on getting their breathing under control, and it was clear to each of them that the other was having a similar problem with forming words. Daryl swallowed, tried to clear his dry throat and tried again to form words. "Y'alright?" His voice finally came out in a hoarse whisper. She just nodded slowly, still looking dazed. He was quickly feeling more like himself, though still plenty shaken up. Carol, on the other hand, was just staring at him as if she was trying to process his words.

Daryl removed his hand from her shoulder and turned in his seat, reaching down to the floor behind his seat. He grabbed two water bottles and twisted slowly back around, wincing slightly from the motion. He couldn't even identify where he was sore. It felt like he was just sore _everywhere_. He opened one of the water bottles and held it out to Carol. She looked at it for a few seconds before reaching out to take it. He was starting to worry about her.

"C'mon, drink some," he told her, his voice still barely responding to his brain's commands for speech. He opened the other bottle and took a long drink, feeling better almost immediately. He looked back at her with concern, noting if she'd drank anything it couldn't have had more than a few sips, and that she was still staring into space where the deer had been a moment before. The water bottle was clenched in her hands, which were sitting in her lap. "_Carol_," he said in a louder voice. "Are you okay?"

She nodded only very slightly, not looking at him. His voice was reaching her ears, but she heard it with an echo, one that sounded like it was coming from the opposite end of a very long tunnel. She wanted to respond, but she felt like everything around her, including her own actions, were happening in slow motion. She didn't yet know whether she was sore or not. She hadn't even managed to catch up with her thoughts, never mind how the various parts of her body had responded to the sudden stop. She heard a noise that sounded like a car door opening somewhere to her left, followed by what sounded like a bang, but couldn't bring herself to look for the source of the sounds. Then she heard the first sound again, but this time closer, on her right. She turned her head slowly towards it.

Daryl had decided that he wasn't going to be able to figure out whether or not she was alright from where he was sitting. He had swung his door open, grabbing his crossbow from the back seat and hoisting it onto his back, just in case, before closing his door and making his way around the car in a few quick steps. He opened the passenger side door, more slowly so that he didn't startle her, and crouched down beside her. He saw her slowly turn toward him, which he took for a good sign. At least, he hoped it was a good sign.

She appeared to have turned as far as she could on her own, but her body was still facing forward. He put his hands gently on the sides of her thighs, then lifted slightly as he turned her slowly in her chair so that her body was also facing him. He crouched awkwardly in front of her, wishing he had a chair to sit on to help him stay at her eye level.

"Carol? Are you with me?" he asked softly. She seemed to be looking somewhere over his left shoulder, and he couldn't tell if she heard him or not. Not sure exactly how to get her attention, he took one of her hands in both of his, noticing how small it felt compared to his own. "Hey," he whispered. "Come on, where are you?" The way she was acting was so eerie, so unlike her, he had to reach her somehow. He didn't even stop to overthink the gesture of taking her hand, which would have been so unlikely any other time.

She felt as though she were wading through molasses, all of her movements happening more slowly than she wanted them to. Suddenly she felt the warmth of his hands holding one of hers, and it was almost as though her heartbeat and her breathing were suddenly restored to their normal rhythms by some sort of magic. She focused on him for the first time since their brush with death, a smile spreading slowly across her face. Everything was suddenly happening at the right speed again, no longer in slow motion, and she felt like a switch had been flipped to allow her to process information again.

"Damn," she said softly, her voice suddenly returning. "Who taught _you_ to drive?"

He sucked in a breath of both surprise and relief, smiling in spite of himself. "Well shit, woman," he replied, "maybe ya wanted me to _hit_ the deer?" She shook her head slowly, chuckling softly. She looked like she was finally coming back to her senses, but he stayed exactly where he was and continued to hold her hand. The truth was, the whole thing had rattled him pretty badly too, and though he didn't want to admit it, holding her hand was comforting him just as much as he hoped that it was comforting her.

"Y'alright?" he asked again. This time she nodded, not absent mindedly like before, but more like she was consciously answering the question.

"Yeah," she added, "just… stiff." He nodded, knowing the feeling very well.

"I dunno if it's best to tell ya to get up 'n walk, or to stay sittin' and rest," he shrugged. He glanced around the area again, just to be sure he hadn't missed any threats while he'd been paying attention to her. "Ya wanna go back? We're only what? Maybe an hour from the prison, at most."

Carol shook her head forcefully. "Nope, I'm fine," she said. "Besides, we _need_ those supplies. And we don't want to have wasted all that gas."

"Don't care 'bout the gas just now," he insisted, looking at her intently. "Choice 'tweet wastin' gas and makin' sure you're okay, ain't no choice at all." She blushed a little bit, shaking her head slightly and looking at the ground.

"You're sweet," she told him, knowing very well that she was the _only_ one who could get away with calling him that without being met with a crossbow between the eyes. "But I'm _fine_. You want me to prove it? Shall I walk around the car a few times?" She suggested it as though she were kidding, but he actually thought it sounded like a good idea.

"Yup, go ahead," he told her, releasing her hand and standing up to allow her to do the same. She glanced at her hand, already missing the warmth of his hands on it. The sensation had been so soothing, just like his presence had always been to her, except… better.

She wondered if she'd really be able to stand up and walk around. Truthfully, while she _was_ feeling much better than she had a few minutes before, she wasn't quite sure if she was one hundred percent at the moment. She pushed herself up slowly, not wanting to collapse and prove his fears right. She started walking, slowly, and was glad to notice that she felt almost no major effects of their sudden stop. Her shoulder was sore where it had strained against the seatbelt and her neck was a little sore, but other than that, she couldn't feel anything unusual.

She did three laps around the car, looking steadier by the minute as Daryl watched her quietly. "So, do I pass?" she asked him when she stopped in front of him when she'd finished. Her tone was a slightly teasing one, as usual.

"How'dya _feel_? Honestly," he asked her, looking her directly in the eyes, and for once, completely unaffected by her playful tone. Her welfare was keeping him serious at the moment.

"My right shoulder's sore where the seatbelt hit it, and my neck feels a little sore too, but that's it," she replied.

He nodded solemnly, walking around behind her and putting both his hands against the back of her shoulder gently.

"What're you doing?" she asked, but quickly realized she knew the answer to her own question. After all, he'd done it once before, when they'd first made it to the prison. She resisted the urge to ask him if he wanted to "screw around," since she had a feeling it would make him uncomfortable enough to stop what he was doing, as it had the previous time.

She tensed up slightly as he made contact with the area so close to where she was sore, which made him further decrease the pressure with which he was pushing, though he hadn't been pushing hard on her shoulder to start with. He moved his fingers in small circles ever so gently, tentatively, not wanting to push too hard on her sore muscles. He paused for a second and glanced at her, which made her turn her head slightly to look at him over her shoulder.

" 'S it makin' it better or worse?" he asked.

"Better," she said with a smile, so he continued. All too soon, however, at least as far as she was concerned, he stopped and she felt the heat of his hands leave her shoulder. She glanced over at him to see that he was looking off into the trees that began not far from the road. Suddenly frowning, then turning towards the direction he was looking, she whispered, "Something there?"

"I dunno," he whispered back, but if you're okay and you wanna keep goin' toward that shoppin' center, we should get goin'. Don't wanna stand here too long. Ya never know…"

While she was disappointed that the unexpected massage was over, she couldn't disagree with him. Daryl's feelings about their surroundings were usually right, and she trusted his judgement above just about anyone else's. The both walked cautiously back to the car, getting in and closing their doors carefully, trying to minimize the noise to the extent that it was possible.

"Ya sure ya don't wanna go back to the prison?" he asked her again. "Ya feel good enough to take on walkers if we run into 'em?" The truth was, the chances that they **wouldn't** run into any walkers was slim to none. It was just a matter of _when_ and _how many_, not _if_, they ran into them.

Carol nodded, looking much more certain than she had before. "I'm feeling a lot better. If you're good to go, so am I," she replied. She seemed to have recovered, at least as far as he could tell. He could usually tell when she was lying to him, and she didn't seem to be doing so now.

"Alright then, let's get outta here," he replied, starting the car. He looked around once more for anything else that might jump out of the woods, but their path seemed clear. Promising himself to be more alert, he drove on in the direction of that shopping center that was their destination, hoping that the remaining hour of the drive would pass without any more excitement.

"Let's hope for a little less excitement on the second half of the drive," Carol said, as if reading his mind.

_How does she always do that?_ he wondered, nodding his head in agreement.

"Was just thinkin' the same thing," he chuckled, keeping his eyes firmly on the road. They fell into an easy conversation about nothing in particular, as she teased him here and there about various things, and he couldn't help but feel like they were both pretty damn lucky to still be breathing.


	54. Shopping

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but I'm happy just borrowing them.**

**Author's Note: I'd say I'm sorry… but I'm not. :) Hope you enjoy it.**

**During the 30 Days Between Seasons 3 and 4**

**A Deserted Back Road, Morning**

They drove the rest of the way, about another hour, alternating between playful banter and comfortable silence. It was by far the most time they'd spent together in a long time, and Carol couldn't help but feel lucky that the others had been otherwise occupied, allowing her this chance. The fact that the dangers in their world were far more numerous than they had once been in the "old world" was a given, but if anything, it made her appreciate the good things that much more. And this – whatever it was – between herself and Daryl, was at the top of the list of the good things in her life. It also didn't hurt that they had just escaped yet _another_ brush with death together. Those types of things helped put everything else in perspective.

Daryl didn't dare take his eyes off the road for the rest of the drive, not wanting to find any more surprises staring them in the face in the road – literally or figuratively – but he could feel warmth radiating off of Carol's smile from the seat beside him. They talked about nothing, really, then lapsed into silence for a while, sometimes picking up the conversation just where they'd left off five minutes earlier or more, sometimes on an entirely new topic. There was something about the interaction between the two of them that put him at ease. In all the time they'd known each other, it had almost always been there, and it made the rest of the drive fly by for him.

Before they knew it, they were nearing the shopping center that was their destination. Carol read off the last few turns that the group from the previous run had jotted down, and they found it easily. Daryl stopped the car at the entrance to the parking lot as they scanned the area. There were a few parked cars scattered across the parking lot, but they saw no signs of movement anywhere. The small strip mall consisted of a dollar store, a pharmacy, a modestly priced shoe store, and a bank. The bank was of practically no use to them, at least not for any money that might be inside, but they looked at the other three stores the way a king would gaze into a room full of treasure. Daryl inched the car forward slowly, both of them keeping their eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. He parked in front of the pharmacy, which was between the other two stores, facing out in case they needed to make a fast getaway. This strategy had saved them more than once in the past.

Still seeing no signs of obvious danger, they quietly got out of the car and closed the doors. Though they did their best to do so quietly, the two thuds of the car doors closing seemed to echo around the parking lot, and Carol winced at the disturbance to the quiet. She caught Daryl's eye over the top of the car, and he motioned with his head that they should proceed toward the building. His crossbow was already on his back, and they both had their knives, plus a gun each. You couldn't be too careful, even when everything looked perfectly safe.

All of the stores' windows were still intact, and the displays looked exactly as they would have been if the stores had been open, minus any lighting from the inside. Of course, there were probably at least a few walkers inside each one if the stores really had remained undisturbed since the Turn. They walked slowly towards the dollar store, which was to the left of the pharmacy, where Daryl thumped his hand against the glass of the front window and waited. It was better to take care of as many walkers as possible before they were inside with them, and with the added distraction of their "shopping." Within a minute or so there were several walkers pressed up against the glass, moaning and eyeing them hungrily. Three of them were wearing what looked to have been everyday clothes, which led Carol and Daryl to guess that they had been shoppers, while two others were wearing uniforms that identified them as store employees.

"Let's try to get 'em to come out one or two at a time, 'f we can. Easier that way," Daryl said, looking towards the entrance. Carol nodded in agreement, and they reached the door in only a few steps. Daryl stood in front of it, backing up a few steps to get a better shot, and Carol stood on the other side, hand poised on the handle, ready to open it. None of the stores in this little shopping center had doors that opened on sensors, thankfully, the way they did at many larger stores, or getting in may have been a much bigger problem, with no electricity. Carol tugged at the door handle and along with the moans of the walkers approaching them, they heard the sound of a bell chime from above them. Like the slam of the car doors, it sounded unreasonably loud against the stillness of the day.

The walkers stumbled clumsily towards the door, and the first one to make it out got an arrow to the skull, as did the second who came out just behind him. Carol tried to force the door closed again to stop them all from coming out together, but the first two had fallen in the doorway and they would have to drag the bodies out of the way first. Luckily, the two walkers in the doorway were also preventing the others from getting out, at least for the moment.

"I'll move those two out of the doorway. Can ya distract the others by the window?" Daryl asked quickly, pointing to the opposite end of the store window. The sooner these walkers were dealt with, the better. She nodded and moved quickly towards the far end of the window, waving her arms and pounding on the glass as she went. The walkers weren't the biggest they'd encountered, but they weren't the smallest, either, and it was slightly unnerving to feel like she was taunting them. It felt like asking for trouble. She glanced behind her quickly to be sure that no others had been drawn by the noise and taken advantage of their focus being elsewhere. All it took was one mistake, after all… Looking back at the walkers in front of her, she cringed slightly. She _knew_ there was a window between them, but even so, she was accustomed to the barrier being a chain link fence that she could actually _see_ between herself and them. And of course, glass could break.

Daryl ignored the stench that filled his nose as soon as she got close to the two walkers that were laying on the ground in front of him, and yanked as hard as he could on the walker that had fallen on top of the first one he'd shot. He dragged it just far enough that it was out of the path of the door, then went back and repeated the process for the walker who'd fallen first. Once there was no longer anything blocking it, the door immediately shut with a thud. This drew the attention of the remaining walkers away from Carol. The two of them quickly got back into position and repeated the process for the remaining three walkers, then worked together to move them from the doorway, which only took a moment. Daryl retrieved all of his arrows, setting them securely back in place, and they were ready to venture inside.

The door had once again fallen closed after the last walker had been moved out of the way, so when they reopened it to venture inside, the bell chimed loudly once again. They stood just inside the door, letting it close behind them and remaining close to the front window. They peered into the dark of the rest of the store warily. There were several skylights that let light filter in from the ceiling, thankfully, so it was not nearly as dark inside as it could have been. Daryl banged his fist against the glass window once again, harder this time, but careful not to hit it hard enough to break it. He hoped to lure out any other walkers that may still have been inside. They stood frozen in place, listening for any sounds of movement, for two or three minutes, barely daring to breathe for fear that they'd miss the smallest of sounds from within the store. Going into an unknown situation like this was perhaps the most dangerous part of the run, and they had already had enough excitement for one day.

Satisfied that the building seemed to be clear, the two of them moved cautiously into the interior of the store. They had discussed their plan of attack during the drive. They would each push a cart in order to load up on supplies, and they would go aisle by aisle together. Carol had been in favor of splitting up, but Daryl was adamant. This was the first run he'd taken her on, and one close call was enough for one day. It would take longer, but it would be far safer. She'd been unable to get him to yield on that point, and had eventually given up, knowing a lost cause when she saw one.

The store had, indeed, been untouched since the Turn, and appeared to have been restocked not long before society had stopped functioning, so there was plenty of everything. They filled their carts to the brim, feeling like kids on Christmas Day. This store alone would replenish their supplies of nonperishable food to last quite a while, as well as cleaning products and "household" items, toys for the kids, baby supplies for Judith, and, if they could squeeze them in the car, a good supply of toilet paper, paper towels and tissues. They moved through the aisles, stocking up on all of this, and filled both carts quickly. They almost wished that they had brought two cars after all, because they wondered how much of their haul, especially the paper products, they'd be able to get back to the prison in the SUV.

They were just finishing their sweep of the store, standing near the back wall, when Daryl stopped, a hand out to indicate that she should stop moving as well. Carol could see that he was listening intently. He tapped his finger to his ear to indicate that he'd heard something. It had been difficult to listen for other noises while they pushed the carts, which, like most shopping carts, were quite squeaky. They had paused for a moment to pick up their last few items at the back of the store when Daryl had thought he'd heard a faint noise, though he hadn't been able to identify exactly where it had come from. They stood there, frozen, for several minutes, listening. They heard only silence. Things had been going so well since they'd arrived, almost too well, and suddenly Daryl felt as though something was about to go wrong.

When there was still no noise after three full minutes, they moved forward as quietly as they could, very slowly, using the flashlights that they'd brought along for extra light. It was eerily quiet, and the squeaking of the carts' wheels made Carol wince. The noise seemed to scream out in the silence, and she wished that she could somehow make it stop. They were about halfway down the center aisle, moving back toward the front of the store, when Daryl stopped again, once again obviously listening, finger to his lips. Carol was walking behind him with her cart, and she turned and watched the direction they had just come from for movement. Daryl continued to look ahead of them. Still, there seemed to be nothing but an ominous feeling that he couldn't identify. Carol still hadn't heard anything at all, but she had never known Daryl's instincts to be wrong, and that alone was enough to be a cause for alarm right now. Her stomach churned uneasily.

Another several minutes passed before they moved again, torn between getting out of that store as quickly as possible and minimizing the noise they were making. After what felt like hours of stopping and starting, they had almost made it to the front doors. Through the front windows they could see the SUV, and no sign of anything or anyone else. They knew, however, that until they were in the car headed home, it was too soon to breathe a sigh of relief. Even then…

They made their way carefully up to the front window, where Daryl motioned her to stop once again. This time the stop was even more agonizing. They were _so_ close to being out safely… Daryl grabbed a stepstool he saw nearby, most likely left by an employee who'd been restocking displays, and set it in front of the door. He climbed as high as the stool allowed, and Carol understood immediately why he'd taken the time to do this. He was removing the bell from the door before they went through it for the last time. While he worked on this the best he could, not having any tools, she looked around the store, listening hard for any signs of danger. There was more light by the window, so she didn't have to squint as hard, and the glass behind her meant one less side from which something could approach them unnoticed.

She couldn't tell if her ears were playing tricks on her as she stood, back to the glass window, her eyes constantly sweeping the store before her. She had the same nagging feeling she'd had since Daryl had stopped them in the back of the store. It was as though she heard _something_, but there really didn't seem to be any sounds coming from anywhere. It was impossible to explain. All she knew was that the longer they stood there, the more anxious she became.

On the stepstool, Daryl swore quietly and began stepping down, some sort of piece of the mechanism in his hand. He'd freed it somehow, she could see, and that was all that was important. He placed the stepstool silently to the side and pushed the door open with one hand, then held it with his foot, squeezing to the side so that she could pass through the opening with the first cart as her kept his crossbow aimed into the darkened store. Once she was through, she pushed the first cart clear of the door and held it for him as he backed out of the store, inching his shopping cart along with him. While holding the door for him, she'd scanned the parking lot and still hadn't seen any movement, so they pushed the painfully noisy carts the few remaining feet to the car to load the supplies into the trunk.

Once everything was loaded, including more toilet paper than they had expected to fit in the trunk, Daryl closed the back hatch as quietly as possible. They were now ready to move on to the pharmacy. Adrenaline was pumping through Carol's veins and while she was pleased at their success in the dollar store, she wished that they were finished and getting back into the car. What she wouldn't give to be finished right now, not getting ready to repeat the whole process twice more. Being on their guard every second was exhausting, but of course, what they were doing was absolutely necessary and she knew it. She gritted her teeth and readied herself to go back into battle with the unknown.

Daryl watched Carol as they packed the last of the supplies from the dollar store into the back of the SUV. She looked tense, but it was understandable. He himself had done so many of these runs, and routinely went outside of the relative safety of the prison. His experience didn't guarantee his safety, of course, but it did help him stay calm. On the other hand, this was Carol's first run. He couldn't help but be impressed with how well she was doing, how completely she seemed to have internalized all the things that he'd taught her. Hopefully she wouldn't need to demonstrate just how well she remembered any of the various kinds of self-defense training that she'd had over the past year. He closed the trunk and they turned and looked at their next challenge, walking up to the window of the pharmacy.

He was about to bang on the window with his fist, as he'd done at the dollar store, when he let out a gasp and cursed as he jumped back from the window instinctively. Carol, forgetting the glass was even there for a second, jumped so fast out of the way that she tripped and fell to the ground. It was a good thing they had both moved so fast, however, because the next thing they knew there was a loud _CRASH _and glass was flying everywhere at once. There was barely time to shield their eyes from the flying shards before they had a new and very _dangerous_ problem to deal with.


	55. Glass

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… though I can see where you might be confused. :)**

**Author's Note: So I wrote about half of this chapter early this morning, before the kids got up, and had it on the brain as I went about my day… then I somehow convinced myself that I'd work on it for "20 minutes or so" at lunch time, and then I would get to the work that I needed to do… let's just say, the work never got done. But this chapter did! Hope you all enjoy it. I'm pretty happy with how it came out.**

**During the 30 Days Between Seasons 3 and 4**

**A Deserted Shopping Center in a Small Town, Late Morning**

Glass rained down everywhere around them, and thankfully they had both jumped to the same side when they'd seen the walker running full speed – or faster than what they would have _thought_ was full speed for a walker – toward the window. They hadn't expected the glass to break, of course, but they hadn't had enough time to think rationally about the chances of that happening, had only seen the decaying corpse running at them. It was pure instinct to try to jump out of the way. Now they were both scrambling to get up and put some distance between themselves and the walker that had just broken through the window by using his head – literally. There was no time to think about the fact that that should have been impossible. All that really mattered was that they were now standing on a sidewalk covered with glass, and there was no longer a barrier between themselves and however many walkers were inside the pharmacy.

Daryl got his footing first, not having fallen over completely, and sunk an arrow into the walker's skull just before it managed to stand upright. It fell back to the ground with a thud, shards of glass of every size scattered beneath and around it. Daryl's eyes darted around the parking lot quickly, checking to see if the noise had drawn any additional attention. Seeing nothing moving, he turned around and peered into the darkness of the store they were planning to enter next. There were no skylights in this one, but the way it was set up allowed better visibility from the front than the dollar store had. There was also a large mirror affixed high up on the back wall, which slanted slightly so that the mirror aimed down, allowing people in the front of the store a decent view of most of the store at once. There didn't appear to be any more walkers, at least that he could see.

Deciding that they were relatively safe for the moment, Daryl turned his attention to Carol, who was still struggling to push herself back up to stand. He took a few steps towards her carefully, hearing glass crunch under his boots, and held out his hand to pull her up from the ground. She took it, but then winced suddenly and withdrew her hand from his. He crouched down lower to see what the problem was.

"Lemme see," he said in a low, calm voice. She held her hand back out slowly, and he could see that there was a quarter inch square shard of glass protruding from the palm of her hand, probably because she'd been down on the ground and trying to push herself off the ground as glass had rained all around her. He held her hand gently, palm up, in both of his, moving his thumbs back and forth along the edges of her hand. Feeling the soothing motion on her hand that had been hurting so much a few seconds before, she glanced down and was surprised to see what he was doing. She wondered if he was doing it on purpose, making a conscious effort to calm her down, or if he even realized he was doing it at all. Either way, she wasn't going to say anything that would interrupt, knowing that if he noticed any reaction from her, he would probably stop.

When she looked up at him, surprised that he was holding her hand like that, he appeared to be concentrating hard as he looked for any other tiny pieces of glass. Broken glass was a bitch to get out, not always easy to see, and it did a great job of cutting through skin, so he wanted to be sure. He didn't see any other cuts on her hand, which he then held steady in his left hand while slowly and carefully removing the shard with his right hand. She bit her lip hard, wincing, trying to concentrate on the fact that her hand was cradled in his and that his thumb was still moving back and forth along the edge of her hand. Yes, she had been through far worse in her life, but it still stung. He finished, throwing the glass on the ground with the rest. Before he had a chance to even look around for something to press against the blood that was now leaking from where the glass had been a moment before, Carol produced a clean tissue from her pocket.

"Looking for something like this?" she asked, smiling slightly. He nodded, impressed with the speed with which she'd pulled it out.

" 'Xactly like that," he replied, nodding. "Til we can find somethin' better in there." He nodded toward the pharmacy. "Now hold that against it with yer fingers." Carol curled her hand obediently into a ball, then looked up at him. "Can you stand up?" he asked.

"I think so. Let's give it another try," she answered hopefully. She was already pushing herself up, despite the fact that broken glass blanketed the pavement around her, before he could hold out his hand to her.

"Easy does it, there's glass all 'round here," he reminded her, "Ya wanna get cut again?" He once again reached for her hand. He took the uninjured one this time and helped pull her up, but she nearly fell right back down as soon as she put weight on her left ankle, which gave way under her. He caught her before she fell, thanks to his quick reflexes, his arm going instinctively around her waist. He managed to move her to the brick ledge that sat just in front of the store window, helping her to sit on it before letting her go.

"Shit," she muttered, which caused him to smile at her in surprise and amusement. "My ankle," she said, looking down at it accusingly.

"Ain't never heard you talk like that before," he told her, shaking his head and still smiling.

She chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you're a bad influence," she replied teasingly.

"Damn straight," he said, looking her in the eyes. "Anything else hurt that I should know about?" She shook her head, and he saw tiny shards of glass fall from her hair. "Woah, hold up with the shakin' for a second," he told her. "You got a whole lotta glass in your hair…" He sat down beside her on the ledge, then hesitantly scooted towards her, leaning in slowly when he realized how closely he would have to look in order to be sure it was all out. "Okay if I just try to get it out?" he asked, suddenly feeling shy. She nodded her head yes, and more glass fell around her.

"I'll keep watch while you de-**glass**-ify me," she replied. From the grin on her face it was obvious that she was taking pleasure in her play on the word "declassify."

"Pfft," Daryl mumbled, shaking his head at her. "Just hold still, alright? Don't need any more glass flyin' in my face 'f I can avoid it."

His hand came up to touch her hair slowly, self-consciously, and pieces of glass ranging in size from pebbles to sparkly dust seemed to spill out at the slightest touch. Very slowly at first, he sifted his fingers gently through her hair. He didn't want to push any glass against her scalp or cut his own fingers. Tiny, sparkly fragments fell from her hair, so he continued what he was doing. He wasn't gonna lie, he liked this. He had felt awkward at first, but there was something about pushing his fingers through her hair… the more he did it, the nicer it felt. Of course, he wouldn't have put them in that situation on purpose, but he wasn't gonna say that he was sorry there was glass in her hair.

It was all Carol could do to keep her eyes open and stay alert, as she had promised to do. Despite the fact that he was doing so to get the glass out of her hair, there was something about Daryl being that close, and moving his fingers gently against her scalp… it would have been easy for her to lose focus if she hadn't had a very real reminder of the danger they were in. _A walker just crashed through a window trying to get to us_, she reminded herself, glancing back at the gaping hole in the window, the glass strewn all over the sidewalk and the remains of the walker not far away. She was conscious of the fact that the cut on her hand was slowly throbbing more and more. And yet… somehow she couldn't say she minded the danger or the pain all that much at that moment. A smile played on her lips as she tried to both hold still and scan the area for danger… and to try to keep from letting it be obvious how much she was enjoying having her head checked for glass.

After several minutes of meticulous checking, he sat back slightly. "Think it's outta your hair for the most part, but we should both shake out our clothes 'n make sure none got caught in the creases, er shit like that," he recommended with authority. She nodded, disappointed that the pseudo-head massage was over, and stretched out her arms and legs. She shook out her clothing as best she could, then looked at Daryl, who'd been doing the same thing not far away.

"How'd I do?" she asked. He walked back over and stood beside her, close to where he'd been to check her hair, and laid his left hand on her shoulder lightly, applying just enough pressure to turn her slightly so that he could look at her back. With his other hand, he gently moved the folds of fabric to see if any glass was caught there. Satisfied that her back seemed to be free of glass, he shifted her shoulder back to face forwards, then watched as she did the same thing on the front of herself, catching a few pieces that she'd missed.

"I'll bet you've got some stuck on you, too," she observed as he stood back up. "I can see the sparkles from here."

"Pfft," he mumbled as he rolled his eyes at her. "I'm fine."

"Take off your vest and shake it out," she said firmly. "Whatever shaking you already did wasn't enough, and considering how much glass I had on me, there's bound to be something on you… even if you weren't directly in the line of fire." She smiled as she heard him sigh heavily, shrugging off his vest and holding it away from her to shake it. They saw that she'd been right, he'd had almost as much glass caught on and under his vest as she'd had in her hair. After checking that his vest was free of glass, he held it out towards her. She understood the gesture, and took it from him to hold while he brushed at the rest of his clothing, moving the fabric carefully as he had done on her. Looking down at her lap for a second, she ran her fingers over the fabric of the wings on the back. Merle had also had a vest just like this. She wondered exactly what the circumstances had been when the Dixon brothers had acquired these vests. Someday she'd ask him.

She heard him clear his throat and looked up to find him looking down at her, the corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. "I've always liked this," she said by way of explanation for her attention to his vest. "It goes with the whole guardian angel thing," she added, her tone the one she used to tease him.

"Pfft," he mumbled, feeling his face flush suddenly, and looking away.

She thought for a second that he was going to say something, but then he seemed to change his mind. Instead, he crouched down in front of where she was still sitting on the ledge, his back to her.

It took her a few seconds to figure out what he was doing, but then she realized that this was Daryl leaning down so that she could make sure no glass remained anywhere on him, something that she imagined that he wouldn't have asked of anyone else in the group. To call Daryl "fiercely independent" would be like calling a volcanic explosion "a little noisy." Sure, he played much nicer with others than he once had, and he could now be counted on to look out for the safety and best interests of the group, sometimes above his own, but he didn't ask things of people for his own benefit if he could help it. He still needed his space, and a lot of it, and he still went out hunting nearly every day unless something prevented him from doing so. She knew that she was pretty much the only one he'd ask things of, which made it all the more special.

She laid his vest across her lap while she played with the folds of the fabric on his back, much the way he had done with the folds of her clothes, except that she let her hands glide more across the fabric covering his back, whereas his had landed on her only when necessary. "Hair too?" she asked quietly. He just shrugged, not turning around, which she took as a yes. _It wasn't a no_, she told herself. She moved his hair carefully, slowly, much like he'd done with hers at first, in sections. The occasional small piece of glass did fall out, so she continued her slow investigation. Once again, she'd be lying if she said she was hating what she was doing just then.

All too soon, she decided that she'd found pretty much all the glass there was to find, and her hands came to rest lightly on his shoulders. She gave only the lightest of squeezes, signaling that she was finished, then dropped them to the bench of either side of her. He stood up stiffly, stretching, and turned around to face her. He nodded, which she knew meant "Thanks," and she smiled back.

"Right," he said, as if they were continuing a conversation instead of starting a new one. "We're gonna get ya into the car and I'm gonna check out the pharmacy and the shoe store, then we're gonna get the hell outta here." Her mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Wait… you think I'm gonna let you go into those two stores alone?" She seemed dumbfounded by the idea, which he, in turn, found relatively hilarious. _She was gonna __**let**__ him?_

"Carol… ya can't even walk right now. 'M not takin' ya limpin' in there with me to face whatever the hell's gonna happen. We don't got no idea how many walkers there'll be… 'S gonna be a lot safer 'n the car than in the store with me." She knew he was right, but she still hated being sent to wait in the car. It reminded her too much of the days were she hadn't been able to defend herself and would have to wait somewhere safe while the others were out fighting. He saw the frustration on her face, and sensed what she was thinking. In a softer tone, he said, "I know you can take care of yourself, but I want you to be safe. Not bein' able to walk's kinda a problem on a run." He paused. "And I can't let nothin' happen to ya."

She sighed heavily, nodding her head, and he knew he'd gotten through to her. She started to push herself up from the ledge again, causing Daryl to jump forward to catch her as she inevitably fell when her ankle gave out – which it did.

"Woman, I swear…" he muttered, more to himself that to her.

"Sorry," she mumbled sheepishly, knowing that she should have known better than to do that, and glad Daryl had such quick reflexes.

"Come on, Speed Demon," he said, helping her hobble over to the car, his arm once again around her waist. It was determined that she would sit in the driver's seat to wait, _just in case_, though she swore to him that it didn't matter what happened, she was **not** leaving him behind. He retrieved her backpack from the back seat of the car, where she had stored a small amount of food for the two of them. With all of the things that had happened that day, they estimated that it now had to be about noon, and they ate a few bites each and drank a few sips from one of the water bottles before replacing it all. They needed to get finished and get back on the road before they lost the daylight.

"Ya keep yer eyes open for danger," he told her. "Ya see anything, pull the car 'round wherever ya need to. Even 'f ya gotta drive off." Her eyes went wide with fear. " 'M not saying I _want_ ya to leave my ass behind," he growled. "But 'f ya see a herd and somethin' happens, 'm not gonna be mad. I know the woods. That road goes out into the woods on the way back to the prison. 'F we gotta, we can meet up out there." She nodded, though still looking unhappy. He looked like he was going to close the door, then he stopped. "Stay safe," he told her. She took a deep breath, and smiled earnestly at their personal parting ritual, that they'd almost forgotten to complete.

"Nine lives, remember?" she replied, as usual.

Daryl closed the door securely, making her promise to stay inside, with the door closed, and walked back toward the pharmacy. Once there, he climbed through the gaping hole in the front window and into the darkness. And then he was gone from her sight.

Carol hadn't done much praying since Sophia had come out of the barn. To say that she was mad at God would be something of an understatement. However, as she watched Daryl through the rear view mirror, walking steadily away from her, she unconsciously began the conversation – as she often did with Daryl himself – suddenly and without further explanation. Really it was less of a conversation and more of a string of the same word… more of a desperate plea…

_Please…_

They had seen nothing to suggest that there was any more danger than there had been a few minutes ago when they'd been sitting outside, but now that he was out of her sight, she was paralyzed with worry. She had already lost so much. They all had. She wasn't afraid to be on this run in the first place, despite how unbelievable the Carol from a few years back would have found that fact. No, the only thing she was really afraid of right now was that something would happen to _him_. Being on the run but having to sit on the sidelines and wait was so much worse than waiting back at the prison, where there were things she could do to distract herself, and she could be blissfully unaware of the actual danger.

_Breathe_, she told herself. _You've gotten this far._

Her eyes remained trained on the rear view mirror, and she waited…


	56. Seven

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead or the characters… but luckily they don't mind going on my crazy adventures.**

**Author's Note: Thank you to my wonderful reviewers. Your comments are so much fun to read, especially on the cliffhanger chapters... I'm glad to hear you're enjoying the story enough to demand more, and that you don't want to wait! :) As far as this chapter goes... well, you'll just have to read and find out.**

**During the 30 Days Between Seasons 3 and 4**

**A Deserted Shopping Center in a Small Town, Early Afternoon**

Daryl closed the door securely, making her promise to stay inside, with the door closed, and walked back toward the pharmacy. Once there, he climbed through the gaping hole in the front window, slowly, to both avoid the jagged edges of the broken glass and to give his eyes time to adjust to the dim interior. Light from outside reflected off of the large mirror high on the wall at the back of the store, so the visibility inside could have been much worse. The first thing he did as he stood in front of the window was pick up a random piece of metal from the floor nearby and hit it carefully against the glass behind him. The clanging noise filled the store for what felt like a few minutes, but was probably far less. It was better to be sure in cases like this.

The next thing he did was to pull a small shelf roughly over in front of the door frame and climb onto the top of it, disengaging the mechanism above the door that would chime when the door was opened. Even though there was now a secondary exit, thanks to that walker that had scared the shit out of them, he decided he'd probably rather use the door, and preferably quietly. He glanced at the small cut on his hand that he'd gotten when he'd detached the chime mechanism in the dollar store. It was only bleeding a little. He'd barely had time to think about it with everything else that had been going on. He checked carefully to be sure that no glass had gotten in, then wiped it on the cleanest part of his shirt that he could find. It stung a little, but in the scheme of things, he'd be fine. At least he was in the right place to find a bandage.

Before jumping down to the floor, he scanned the store for movement. He saw none, but knew very well that that didn't mean there was no danger within the store. He climbed down and headed for the corral of shopping carts nearby, taking a minute to select one that didn't squeak this time. It was frustrating because he couldn't push a shopping cart and hold his crossbow ready, nor could he cover every direction alone. _This_ was why it was easier not to go on a run alone. But no matter, he was alone for the moment and that was how it was. Best to get it over with and get out of there.

Again, the store appeared to be untouched, and Daryl found himself trying to pick only the most necessary items as he walked up and down the aisles, knowing that they only had so much space. He started with the first aid section, jumped the counter to where the drugs were kept and consulted the shopping list that Hershel had made for him. He made his way through the pharmacist's domain, clearing the shelves of the drugs on his list, then returning to the cart to set everything down. After that, he went to the non-perishable food section, the household goods, baby supplies and toiletries… the list of things they needed for the group seemed never ending, but he felt good knowing that it would go to good use. He was glad that he could provide for his family this way.

There was a door in the back corner of the store that said "Employees Only," and he wondered what could be inside. He knew that it was probably wisest to leave it alone and continue on, conscious of the fact that he was burning daylight the longer he stayed there… and yet, he was naturally curious, and always wondering if what was behind that door could be something even better than what he'd found so far. Since the turn, they'd been known to find many guns, along with plenty of ammunition, in back rooms. Daryl told himself that he'd unload his cart into the car and then come back and check it out. Taking advantage of his position at the back of the store, with the daylight from outside still filtering in through the large front window, he walked slowly and carefully towards the front door.

Carol had been sitting, frozen in place, staring hard at the rear view mirror that was pointed at the front of the store in between scans of the parking lot around her. She was almost surprised that the mirror hadn't cracked under the weight of her stare. When she saw him emerge through the door, she let out a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding. She watched him glance around cautiously, then push the cart he had filled up with necessities to the rear of the car, releasing the hatch on the back. The trunk was mostly full already, but he stuffed as many of the smaller items in as possible before closing it again, coming around to her side and opening the back door to deposit the rest.

"Looks like it was a success," she said, turning to look over the top of the seat to look at him. She couldn't help but smile with relief that he had made it out unhurt.

"Mmm-hmmm," he replied, setting everything down and scanning the parking lot again for any sign of trouble. "Gonna take a look in the back room in there, then head into the shoe store."

"Is that a good idea?" she asked, her smile vanishing. She hated the idea of him spending any longer in those stores alone than necessary, and she wanted to get the shopping expedition over with quickly. It had to be heading towards mid-afternoon by now, judging from the position of the sun.

"Just gonna check it out, see if they got any guns er somethin' in the back. Everything was quiet in there," he added, knowing full well that quiet didn't guarantee safety, and knowing that Carol knew it too. She bit her lip, realizing that she'd never been able to talk Daryl out of anything that his mind was _really_ set on, and that, therefore, she wasn't going to win an argument about it.

"Be careful," she whispered, almost more to herself than to him. His eyes met hers through the small space between the back of her seat and the ceiling of the car's interior, and she saw him nod at her, then smile ever so slightly.

"Stay here, keep the doors closed. Same as before. I'll be right back," he told her, then he closed the back door and he was gone again, disappearing back into the darkness of the store. She sat for what felt like hours, each minute seeming more agonizing than the previous one. She trained her ears for any noise, and grew even more anxious when she swore that she heard sounds from inside that she hadn't heard before. It was all she could do to keep her breathing under control. She knew that she couldn't go in there and do anything to help, so she continued to sit nervously by, not realizing that she was holding her breath once again.

Daryl had gone back into the store, through the door this time, having abandoned the cart on the sidewalk outside. He stalked noiselessly through the aisles, headed directly to the door at the back corner of the store, with his crossbow drawn in front of him. Walking this way, he immediately felt safer. He may not have been in the woods, but at least he felt ready to defend himself against whatever he might find.

Reaching the door marked Employees Only, he pressed his ear gently against the smooth surface, gripping the doorknob tightly but not twisting it. He didn't hear a sound, and it was impossible to know what he would find inside. He thought fleetingly that it might have been a good idea to walk around the exterior of the building and get a look at the back, to see if it appeared to have been compromised from that side… but the so far nothing had been touched at all in either store, and it just seemed extremely unlikely that he'd find anything so different through that door. Plus, he was extremely conscious of the fact that daylight was ticking away. No, he needed to get this done quickly.

Almost in slow motion, he turned the doorknob. He twisted it until it couldn't twist any more, and only then did he push the door open. He heard a quiet click as the mechanism inside the door that had held it shut disengaged, and then he was looking into total blackness. He swore silently to himself, knowing what a disadvantage the darkness was putting him at if there _was _anything in that back room, dead or alive. He quickly let go of his crossbow with one hand to take out his flashlight, which he switched on and then held in his mouth, as he often did when he needed the light but also needed to hold his crossbow with both hands. He stood peering through the crack in the door, which he continued to open a fraction of an inch at a time, moving his head to pan the flashlight around the room. When the door was finally fully open, he leaned his right elbow against the door to hold it while he used his right foot to put down the door stopper, leaving the door open so that the light coming in from of the front of the store wouldn't disappear when he moved away from the door.

It was only then that he heard it – the moaning coming from the shadows in the back left corner of the room. There was no mistaking the sound – walkers. He couldn't be sure how many there were, but there were definitely more than one, and they had likely just realized he was there. He wanted to shoot toward the corner where he heard them, but even he wasn't a good enough shot to aim based on sound alone. He braced himself where he stood, ready for whatever was coming. These assholes were _not_ going to stop him from finding whatever the hell was back in this room. He stared into the darkness, waiting. His eyes were quickly adjusting to the dim light of the back room, and within seconds the corner where the moans were coming from was no longer blackness. He could now see shadows moving there, counting six in all, if he wasn't mistaken. Six walkers at once was nothing to sneeze at, but he was sure he'd faced tougher odds in his life. Without taking time to think about it, he shot the first one, who was already advancing on him. He imagined that they'd probably been able to smell the blood that was leaking from his hand, making them even more interested in him than if he hadn't been bleeding.

The first walker fell in front of the others, momentarily blocking their path. However, they quickly pushed their way around it. He shot an arrow through the skull of the second one and was just about to shoot the third one, thinking that this was going to be less trouble than he'd originally thought, when he suddenly heard the same familiar moaning sound… except this time it was_ much_ closer, and it wasn't coming from the direction the other walkers were coming from. No, with only a split second to spare before a walker would have sank its teeth into his right shoulder, Daryl swiveled, jumped back and shot an arrow into the chest of the walker who'd snuck up on him. This, of course, did nothing but annoy the walker, but it bought Daryl a precious few seconds as he kicked it back a few feet further and then successfully shot it in the head, then kicked it backwards again, as hard as he could, for good measure. It hit a shelf that was bolted to the wall, full of office supplies, behind it, and the walker and the shelf, along with everything on it, fell to the ground with a crash. _Fucker,_ he thought. There was no time to appreciate how close he had just come to being bit, however, because he turned back to find the other four walkers now alarmingly close to him. He managed to take care of them before they got a chance to make him their early dinner, but not without being covered in walker guts, almost from head to toe.

Taking a step back from the pile of corpses that now littered the floor of the back room, he cursed under his breath and looked down at himself. His first thought was _Carol's going to overreact to this. _Not wanting to stay there any longer than necessary, he turned off his thoughts and stepped over the walkers to survey the room and then quickly collect his arrows. There didn't seem to be anything back there except office supplies, which pissed him off. He'd almost gotten bit, dammit! Then, as he pulled open the bottom drawer in the desk in the far right corner of the room, he found something that made him smile. Three handguns and a large box of ammunition sat in the large, otherwise empty drawer. He grabbed them quickly and stood up. It was time to get the hell out of this store.

Carol, after hearing what she was sure were several crashes inside the store and then nothing, was almost beside herself. What if something had happened to him? How would she know, other than to go in there? What if she sat there watching and he appeared at the window… as a _walker_? That thought was literally too much for her, and she could feel tears in her eyes. _No_, she thought, _that's not going to happen. _She pushed the thought from her head, absolutely refusing to acknowledge it as a possibility, no matter how realistic it may or may not have been. They had been through too much already to have it end like that. She stared across the parking lot, unable to take any but the quickest glances at the rear view mirror and the front of the store.

Daryl limped out of the store and into the sunshine, which, after the back room, seemed unreasonably bright. The car appeared to be just as he'd left it. He didn't see Carol's head moving in the front seat, which concerned him, and he walked towards the driver's side, concern growing in him. When he reached the front door he found her sitting rigidly, staring at the parking lot ahead of her. She was biting her lip and looked like she was working hard to contain her emotions. He could tell that she hadn't seen him and he didn't want to scare her, so he tapped gently on the window with his knuckles. He watched as she jumped, her face first reflecting surprise and fear, which was quickly replaced by relief and, after she realized the state he was in, shock. Anticipating that she was about to swing the door open, he took a step back out of the way. It was lucky that he had such good reflexes, because that was exactly what she did.

When Carol had seen Daryl, standing beside her window covered in the remains of who knew how many walkers, she was both horrified and relieved. She'd been concentrating on the parking lot, not wanting to focus on the store at all, and had gotten so engrossed in watching the parking lot that she hadn't seen him emerge from the store. Unlike the first two times one or both of them had returned to the car, this time he had been covered in the evidence of an encounter with walkers. He was still standing, of course, but the thought of something having happened to him was now sickeningly real once again. She couldn't help but swing the door open, watched as he stepped out of the way naturally, as if he'd known all along that that was what she'd do when she saw him. She laughed to herself, knowing that it shouldn't surprise her.

She pulled herself up to stand in front of him, balancing on the frame of the car, careful to keep her weight on her good ankle, and looked him up and down. He had thought that she was about to throw her arms around him, but looked like she had changed her mind at the last second. _Well, ya are covered in walker guts, _he told himself. While he wasn't one for hugs, for touching in general, he'd found that he didn't mind so much anymore when _she_ did it. Sometimes he even liked it, as long as she didn't catch him off guard. He'd been anticipating that she was going to hug him then, and strangely enough, he found himself almost disappointed that she didn't.

As she pulled herself up to stand in front of him, getting a better look at him, she was even more concerned. The urge to hug the life out of him was strong, and she nearly did it… but then suddenly she was self-conscious. She didn't care one bit that he was covered in walker guts. She'd had them on her before too. No, it was more than that. As relieved as she was to see him, she didn't want to make him uncomfortable. She knew that she'd done that so many times before – hugged or otherwise made contact with him knowing full well that he wasn't comfortable with it. She'd been trying to be better about respecting his space, so as much as she wanted to hug him with the relief of seeing him alive, she held back. She thought that she'd seen an expression on his face that she couldn't read for a few seconds, then it passed. She decided that she must have imagined it.

"Did you get bit?" she asked with concern.

"Nah. Bastard almost got his teeth in my shoulder, but I shot him – twice – and kicked him against a wall before he had the chance. 'F ya heard a crash, that was him. I was pissed, so I kicked him against a wall and knocked everythin' over." She nodded, taking deep breaths to calm her breathing. He could read the concern in her eyes. " 'S fine. Not bit, not scratched," he assured her. She just nodded again, trying to find her voice once more.

"How many were there?" she managed quietly.

"Wasn't no big deal. Thought it was just the six in the back corner of the back room, started shootin' em an' then that other bastard that almost bit me snuck up on me from the right," he replied, as if taking down seven walkers would have been easy if one of them hadn't snuck up on him. Carol closed her eyes and shook her head, then a smile crept across her face.

"Only Daryl Dixon would tell me that fighting seven walkers was 'no big deal,'" she replied, opening her eyes again and looking more like herself.

"Pfft," he mumbled, looked down and scuffing his boot into the dirt. It was an old habit that she hadn't seen him do for a long time. "Did get somethin' to make all the trouble worthwhile, though," he told her, holding out the guns and the box of ammunition. She nodded in agreement.

"They'll be good to have, though I wouldn't say they were worth risking your life over," she replied just a little bit reproachfully.

He rolled his eyes at her. " 'M fine," he insisted, looking straight at her. They both let it drop then. He checked the position of the sun, which was beginning to work its way slowly toward late afternoon.

" 'S gonna be startin' to get dark in a few more hours. We need to finish up here an' get on the road," he said. She just nodded, knowing that she was going to be ordered back in the car. "How's the ankle?" he asked instead.

She grimaced. "I'll live, though I'm sure Hershel'll tell me to stay off it for a while," she lamented.

"Good," he grunted. "Now get your ass back in the car so I can get this last one done with and we can get the hell outta here."

"You have the list?" she asked him. He produced a crumpled scrap of paper from the pocket of his pants. It was now stained with what was mostly likely walker guts, but it was still legible. "Everyone's sizes are on here, right?" he asked. She nodded. "Yours too?" He knew how she often just "neglected" to do things for herself, instead choosing to spend all of her energy on others, giving away her portion of food, etc. He'd called her on it many, many times.

"At the bottom," she mumbled. It was only there because Maggie had written it there for her.

"Good, now _get your ass back in the car, woman,"_ he growled. It wasn't an unfriendly growl, and though it drove her crazy, it was one of the things she loved about him. Instead of balancing her hand on the frame of the car, she instead put her hand onto his upper arm, lowering herself back onto the seat and only letting go of him when she was seated. It didn't escape her attention that he didn't flinch.

_Baby steps,_ she told herself.

He closed the door behind her and nodded, already taking his crossbow in both hands, readying himself for the unexpected.

Slouching down in the seat once again to wait, she glanced around the parking lot, which was still empty. She heard the chime of the door of the shoe store but hadn't had a chance to look back in the mirror at the storefront when she heard a loud commotion, accompanied by Daryl's voice shouting something unintelligible. When she _did_ look in the mirror, her blood froze in her veins. She started the car, and shifted into Drive, ready for a fast getaway.


	57. Getaway

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead or the characters… but I don't mind just pretending I do.**

**Author's Note: I know, I know, I've been toying with you a little bit during the past few chapters, and you guys have been really good sports about it. Here's where I start making up for it… or at least, that's my plan. Sometimes these chapters get away from me a little. :)**

**During the 30 Days Between Seasons 3 and 4**

**A Deserted Shopping Center in a Small Town, Mid Afternoon**

She had never seen Daryl move so fast, and thank goodness he did. With the engine running and the car in Drive, she leaned across the passenger seat to release the handle on the door just as he grabbed for it from outside the car. He was only halfway inside the door and really not even on the seat when she pushed her foot down, _hard_, on the accelerator. The tires squealed loudly as the car lurched forwards. If they had taken only a few more seconds getting out of there, they would have been overrun. She glanced in the rearview mirror as Daryl struggled not to fall out of the open door, pulling himself to a sitting position enough that he could pull the door closed. Carol accelerated as fast as she could, knowing that they wouldn't be safe until they'd put a significant distance between them and the herd that had seemed to pour out of the shoe store.

It was several minutes before either of them could speak, both having to struggle to catch their breath. Carol recovered first. "What just _happened_, anyway?" she asked, still in shock.

"Fuckin' things were _everywhere_ in there," he replied. "Soon as I opened the door and that damn bell went off, it was like they just all swarmed forwards at once. Almost like someone had lured 'em all in there and then they never figured a way out. Til I walked in." He paused, shaking his head and thinking about how in the world all those walkers had crowded into one store. "Maybe whoever lured 'em in there got trapped in there, became one of 'em. Just seems like if someone had come back out, they woulda followed." Finally he shrugged, turning to look behind them once again. He couldn't see the walkers behind them anymore, but their moans echoed in his ears. That had been _much_ too close.

She exhaled loudly, shaking her head. "That was…" She couldn't even finish the sentence.

"Was a helluva lot closer'n I was comfortable with," he agreed. She looked over at him then, and he could see that she was shaken up by everything that had happened that day. It was all beginning to wear on her, and understandably so. "Y'alright?" he asked. She just nodded.

"I guess we're lucky that I hurt my _left _ankle, not my right, or that getaway could have gone _very_ badly…" she said, trailing off.

"Think we've been lucky a lot today," he agreed. "Lucky, but at the same time really _fuckin'_ unlucky."

"We're still breathing," Carol said simply. "I think that makes us _very _lucky today." He nodded solemnly, and then they both fell silent, alternating between glancing behind them to see if they spotted any of the walkers that they'd narrowly escaped from, and ahead of them to check that their path was clear. It was probably fifteen minutes before either of them spoke again.

"Do you think we'll make it back by dark?" Carol asked. While she trusted Daryl implicitly and knew that he would do everything in his power to protect her, there was something about being within the prison fences after dark that felt far safer than being outside of them. Daryl, after all, was only human. They both knew all too well how easy it was for even the best of them to fall to one kind of danger or another.

" 'S gonna be close, but I think we should," he replied. She nodded, and he noticed the tension in her face ease slightly. "Ya want me to drive?" he asked.

"I'm alright for now," she replied. "I don't mind driving." She was silent for a minute, then she continued, almost apologetically. "Ed never let me drive. Insisted that I'd get us killed with my 'women's stupidity,' or something like that. The only time I got to drive was if he was out somewhere without the car, if one of his friends had picked him up for the weekend when they went off fishing, or something like that. He told me if I wanted to get myself killed, that was my own business." She shook her head to dislodge the memory, then glanced over at Daryl. "I like driving," she said simply. "And I think I'm a pretty good driver, despite what Ed thought."

Daryl looked at her in stunned silence, conscious that his mouth was hanging open slightly, but unable to do anything about it. Just when he thought that Ed couldn't be any more of a bastard… she told him a story like this. Of course, this story paled in comparison to many of the others that he'd told her slowly over time, but each one brought the anger back, worse than ever. He was at a loss for words. Not that that was all that unusual for him, since he was a man of few words to start with, but it was several minutes before he replied.

"Bastard didn't deserve ya, not in a million years," he told her quietly, his face clouded with anger. "Said it before, n' I'll say it again. Wish he was still alive, just so I could kill him myself." She couldn't help but smile then, glancing over at him in the passenger seat. She felt such strong affection for him, it was all she could do to resist the urge to reach over and take his hand.

"And you drive a helluva lot better n'lotsa guys I used to know," he added.

"Thank you," she replied, feeling herself blush slightly. "It's enough for me that he's gone now… and that _you're_ here."

He didn't know how exactly she meant that, but he supposed it didn't matter. He didn't know how he _wanted_ her to mean it. At the very least, he could take it at face value… that she was glad that he was sitting beside her. _He_ certainly was glad that he was there beside her. As far as anything else, well…

Daryl realized that he had lost himself in his own thoughts once again, and when he glanced over at her, he saw that she had done the same. Suddenly he had a thought that concerned him. He leaned back slightly so that he could see the dashboard in front of Carol, trying to look without her noticing, and checked the gas gauge. It showed that there was less than a quarter tank of gas left. He bit his bottom lip, knowing that if they made it back to the prison without running out of gas, it was going to be close. They didn't have time to stop and try to look for more or they'd lose the daylight for sure. He could only hope that they'd make it back, even if it was on fumes. They could sort out filling the car up again once they were safely inside the gates of the prison.

Carol glanced over at Daryl a little while later and saw him biting the skin next to his thumbnail, as he always did when there was something on his mind. Either he was nervous, or worried, or something was wrong. She'd noticed that most of the time he didn't even know he was doing it, and she also knew that it always meant something.

"What's wrong?" she asked him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looked at her, momentarily confused. "You're chewing on your thumb. What's wrong?" she asked again.

_Dammit_, he thought. He hadn't wanted to worry her, had hoped it wouldn't be an issue. He let out a sigh, and decided that the direct approach was best. "We might not have enough gas to get back," he admitted. Just as he said that, the car emitted a _ding_, and the light on the dashboard that resembled a gas tank illuminated. She inhaled quickly, looking at him with concern, then looked quickly back to the road in front of them.

"But…" She started her sentence, but didn't finish. This was why he hadn't wanted to tell her, had hoped that they'd make it back safely and then could just have said, "Wow, that was close!"

"We'll be alright," he said calmly. Her eyes remained wide, and she tried hard to channel the calm that he seemed to be feeling as she stared at the road ahead of them. On top of everything else today, this was just too much. She felt herself slipping towards panic, even as she tried to stay calm.

"How much farther is the prison?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

"If we don't run outta gas, we should be there in about an hour," he replied. An hour seemed like a _long_ time to drive when the car was already so close to the E on the gas gauge.

She nodded silently, staring straight ahead. _We'll be alright_. _We've been on the road before,_ she reminded herself. _We can do it again for one night._ Still, she couldn't get the feeling of dread out of the pit of her stomach. This run seemed to have been cursed almost from the beginning, and she couldn't help but wonder if their luck would run out. How many times had they almost died that day, anyway? Five? It had to be at least that by now.

She bit her lip, harder than she realized, as Daryl watched her with concern. He knew that it was realistic to be afraid of the dangers they could face if they ran out of gas, especially with Carol not being able to walk properly, but he was pretty sure that they had the skills to survive if they _did_ run out of gas. He hated to see her worry, knowing that she tended to underestimate her own skills. She'd become a survivor, but sometimes she forgot how far she had come.

" 'S gonna be okay," he repeated quietly, willing her to believe it.

She nodded her head, still staring straight ahead, trying not to look down at the gas gauge in front of her. It would only make her more anxious. She suddenly had a flashback of the countdown clock at the CDC, when Jenner had told them that it was counting down until they would all die, and the panic that they'd felt. The first thing she'd done had been to put her arms around Sophia's shoulders, as if that could protect her daughter from the danger they had all been in…

_Sophia._

She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes and she wished she could take back that thought. She thought of Sophia every day, but not like that. She'd trained herself to remember her daughter during the times when it was just the two of them, the moments when they'd been happy. No Ed. No walkers. Nothing but the two of them, and possibly any other person who might be included in a happy memory. But mostly, it was just them. She hated to think of Sophia being scared, as they had been that day. Too often when she thought of her that way it snowballed, and led her to think about the day that Sophia had run into the woods, the last time she'd seen her alive.

Daryl was watching her carefully, and knew that something had been triggered in her. It couldn't _just_ be the fear of what would happen if they ran out of gas. He knew her too well, knew how she reacted to certain kinds of fear, knew the look she got on her face when her thoughts took her off on a tangent, and he knew the look that came over her when that tangent led back to Sophia. That was the look on her face now, and he felt an ache in his chest for her. This was the one thing he couldn't fix, that he'd never be able to fix. He kept watching her, trying to figure out what, if anything, he could do.

_Stop it_, Carol told herself fiercely. _You can't fall apart. Not now. Not here. This is when you have to be strong. Falling apart won't help you stay alive, exactly the opposite. Even Daryl can't keep you alive if you give up. _

_Sophia wouldn't want you to give up._

That last part jolted her out of her self-pity. In her next thought, she chided herself for being so silly. This wasn't the CDC. Running out of gas wasn't the same as being trapped in a building rigged to go up in a fiery explosion. They weren't going to _die._ Not for certain, anyway. If there was anyone she trusted, it was Daryl, above anyone else she knew or had ever known.

Still, Daryl wasn't a superhero. There were plenty of situations they could find themselves in that even Daryl wouldn't be able to survive. She bit down harder on her lip, squeezing the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white as she fought the voices in her head for control of her thoughts.

He could see that whatever path she'd gone down in her mind, the one that had momentarily taken her to a dark place, she was on her way back from it, and now she looked more determined than ever. Still, she looked conflicted, and more than anything, she looked scared. He wouldn't say that he himself was scared, though he was certainly concerned. She was an organizer, a planner. When she couldn't do those things, when things were out of her control, it frightened her. They were opposites in that way, but that was part of why they worked well together.

"Hey," he said simply. " 'S okay." With that he reached over and laid his left hand on top of her right, gently pulling on it until she released her iron grip on the steering wheel. Gently, he took her hand, lacing their fingers together and resting their hands on the console between them. She looked momentarily surprised, but he noticed that she smiled for the first time in quite a while, and she had stopped biting her lip. She still looked scared, but the tension seemed to slowly drain from her face. He wondered how something as simple as holding her hand had such power, and how he, of all people, seemed to be able to comfort _anyone_. No matter how many times he witnessed the effect that he had on her – because he'd long since realized that he was the only one who had this effect on her – he still failed to understand it. There was nothing about him that was special, that much he knew, and yet… for some reason, _she_ thought he was. He wondered, for perhaps the thousandth time, why she saw him so differently from how anyone else had seen him in his life, so differently from how he saw himself, even now.

They sat this way, almost shyly, both looking at the road ahead and into the woods to the sides and behind them, but not at each other, as they continued to drive. Time ticked away, and Daryl noticed that unless he was imagining it, Carol was slowly squeezing his hand tighter and tighter. She still hadn't looked down at the gas gauge, and her face was gradually growing tense once again. He squeezed back gently, hoping it would repeat the message he'd been trying to send: _It's okay._

It would be okay. It _had_ to be.

**Author's Note: Don't worry, I had a LOT of writing time today while my husband ran a marathon. You won't be waiting long for the next chapter… :)**


	58. Barn

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead or the characters… who wants that kind of pressure, anyway?**

**Author's Note: If you liked the previous one, hold on to your hats… because I ****_think_**** you'll like this one even more. I may have erred on the side of a little extra cuteness, as I sometimes do, but remember, my goal during these chapters I've inserted between seasons 3 and 4 was to explain the change in the dynamic between the two of them. Anyway, if the cuteness doesn't kill you, please leave me a review! (Maybe, just maybe, I'm not as mean as some of you have started to think I am, after all. :) )**

**During the 30 Days Between Seasons 3 and 4**

**In the Car, Not Quite A Half An Hour Drive From the Prison, Late Afternoon**

About forty minutes after they'd first heard the car signal that they were low on gas, he felt a difference in the way the car was riding, felt it begin to slow down, and was fairly sure that they were about to burn through the last of the fumes that they'd been riding on for quite some time. He looked around to take in their current surroundings, which were about to become their surroundings for the night. They were still at least a few miles away from the prison, if not a little more than a few, and with Carol barely able to walk, there was no way they would make it back before nightfall. Better to find somewhere to hole up for the night and continue at daybreak. Traveling at night held too many dangers.

He already knew what was happening when he felt Carol's hold on his hand tighten, and knew that she was starting to panic. "Daryl…" she said, her voice betraying how hard she was trying, but failing, to stay calm.

He squeezed her hand again, gently. "Yup," he replied, nodding. The car slowed, and within a minute they had stopped completely. She looked at him, her eyes full of questions. "Already got a plan," he told her. She looked slightly relieved, but he wasn't sure how long that would last. "Not sure you're gonna like it, but it's the best I can think of," he continued. She bit her lip, her nervous habit, and waited for him to tell her this plan that she wasn't going to like.

"So, on that side we've got forest. Not ideal," he said, indicating the right side of the road with his free hand, still holding her right hand in his left. "On the other side, we got a field, n'that barn 'bout a half mile down the road."

Now she saw why she wasn't going to like this plan.

" 'F ya put the car in neutral, I should be able to push it over there 'fore it gets too dark. Long as it's not locked, we can push the car right in the barn, close up the doors, n'spend the night in the hayloft. In case any walkers happen by."

He was right, she _didn't_ like this plan… She hadn't even wanted to _think_ about barns since that day at the Greenes' farm, since… She sighed heavily and took a deep breath. The only alternative was sleeping out in the open, in either the woods or the field, and either of those was by far more dangerous. She knew that they were lucky that they'd broken down near a structure of _any_ kind… she just wished it could have been a farmhouse. They could see the farmhouse that the barn had likely belonged to, but it was probably _at least_ another half mile down the road, and it would be getting dark soon. They'd be lucky if they made it to the barn in time. Pushing the car just as far as the barn wasn't going to be a picnic for Daryl either, that was for sure.

She swallowed all the things that she didn't like about their current situation, mostly the idea of spending the night in the barn, of all places, and just nodded. "Okay," she said at just above a whisper. He squeezed her hand one more time, knowing without being told how she felt, and impressed with how she was reacting. She really was stronger than she gave herself credit for.

She looked over as he nodded at her, let go of her hand, and opened his door to get out of the car. Out of habit, she pushed down on the brake, even though the car wouldn't have moved anyway, and shifted the car into neutral, releasing the brake. They'd been driving with the windows part way down, and she heard Daryl call out that he was ready. She held up a thumbs up signal to him and she felt the car begin to inch forward as he started to push. She did not envy him that job, that was for sure, and she felt guilty that she couldn't help him.

Slowly but surely, she watched the barn grow closer as the sun sank lower in the sky. The car pulled to a stop in front of the large wooden structure just as the sun was about to disappear behind the tress, and Carol watched Daryl walk around from behind the car toward the doors of the barn. There was no lock that she could see, and she held her breath hopefully as he approached the doors. While she hoped that they would open, she also had a flash of déjà vu for a second, thinking of the terrible day that Shane had opened the Greenes' barn to release the walkers… walkers who had once been the Greenes' friends and loved ones, and of course, Sophia. She nearly called out to Daryl not to open the doors, but stopped herself. A second later, as he gripped the handle of the barn doors, he turned around and looked straight at her, knowingly. The look on his face told her that he knew exactly what she was thinking, and she couldn't help but smile even as tears pricked at her eyes once again. Without saying so, she knew that he was telling her not to worry.

She held her breathe as she watched him open the barn doors, which seemed to her to take forever. In the fading sunlight she could see that the barn was empty, but he went in with his crossbow raised, just to be sure. You could _never_ be too sure. She lost sight of him as he disappeared around a corner into the dim light of the interior, and she held her breath once again, exhaling loudly when she finally saw him emerge a few minutes later. He walked up to the window and said "It's clear, and we're getting in there just in time. It's gonna be dark real soon." Then he walked back to the back of the car, and resumed pushing until the car was all the way inside the barn. She grabbed the flashlight from the console between the seats, knowing that it was going to be quite dark as soon as he shut the barn doors. Opening the car door, she pulled herself up to stand by leaning on the frame of the door, as she'd done earlier, and shined the flashlight in his direction. It didn't make a big difference in the complete darkness of the large structure, but it was better than nothing. She noticed that the beam from the small flashlight he'd carried with him in the darkened stores earlier that day also sweeping the barn's interior, coming closer and closer to her.

Despite the two flashlight beams, it was almost as though he appeared out of the darkness as she stood leaning on the frame of the car. He stopped behind the trunk of the car and opened it, and then seemed to be digging around for a few moments before he found what he was looking for. He shut the trunk again and when he reached her, she recognized what he was holding. It was one of the thin blankets from the beds at the prison. "Just figured, ya need to expect the unexpected," he said by way of explanation. She nodded, knowing that it wasn't much, but that it was better than nothing. Now that she was out of the car, she felt the cold that was settling around them as the sun disappeared. She hugged her thin sweater around herself.

"The ladder's that way," he said, pointing into the darkness. He slipped his right arm around her waist and she leaned heavily against him, trying to keep her weight off of her left ankle, wincing as they started to walk. "Y'alright?" he asked, stopping a few steps from the car so he could turn and close her door. He clicked the locking mechanism on the electronic key and the car emitted a chirping sound.

"Yeah, I'm good," she replied. She was looking forward to getting up the ladder and getting this whole thing over with. She didn't want to be in this barn, but here they were. It was just a barn. She wasn't going to give this barn extra significance that it shouldn't have. _It's just a barn._ She repeated to herself over and over. _It's just a barn_.

They reached the ladder and tried to figure out the best way for her to climb it. Since putting weight on her left ankle was out of the question, the best way they could figure for her to get up was to have Daryl go up first and then help by pulling her up to substitute for her being able to alternate her feet on the ladder. He hated the idea of not having her reach the safety of the hayloft before him – not that there was anything that they knew of in the barn that would put her in danger for the few minutes it would take them to do this – but there was no other choice.

It was very awkward at first, since he couldn't really leverage himself until he himself reached the hayloft, but if he went all the way up to begin with, he couldn't reach her. So for the first few rungs that she climbed he had to loop his elbow around the ladder and hold on with all his might, gripping her hand with his other hand and pulling as hard as he could without pulling both of them off balance. That would have sent them both crashing to the floor of the barn, which wasn't an attractive option. It was slow going, but finally they made it far enough up the ladder that he could lay over the edge and pull her up the rest of the way. It went easier after that, and finally they were both in the hayloft, panting from the exertion of getting there. She scooted herself away from the edge, and Daryl pulled up the ladder, setting it to the side so that they wouldn't trip on it and coming over to where she sat to join her.

From where they sat, they had a good view of both the barn and the yard. The space under the roof of the hayloft allowed them to look out as far as the light from the moon, which had now risen part way in the sky, allowed them to see. They could see the road that they'd come from, and there were no walkers in sight. This was good news. They'd driven a long way, and hoped that the walkers had given up, or gotten lost or confused, long ago. The last thing they wanted to do was to lead them back to the prison.

Daryl held the blanket out to Carol. She took it, but just sat looking at him. "What about you?" she asked with concern.

" 'M gonna take watch. You get some sleep," he told her, as his eyes scanned the horizon.

"Have you _ever_ know that to work before?" she asked him, smiling. He sighed, shaking his head. _Damn but this woman was stubborn…_ _and she wasn't wrong, either._ She almost always kept him company when he was on watch.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself," he replied, sitting down beside her. "Just thought you'd wanna get some sleep."

"And what about you? You practically did the whole run by yourself today, you had to basically carry me around, and you _pushed the car_ for what? Half a mile, at least? And _then_ you pulled me up a ladder… with one hand." She looked at him and shook her head. "If anyone should be telling anyone else to get some sleep, it should be _me_ saying it to _you_!"

He looked at her, knowing that what she was saying made sense, but completely unwilling to give in. He shook his head stubbornly. "Nope. Not gonna happen. I dragged you out on this run, an' I'm gonna make sure you get back safe." Now it was her turn to shake her head.

"Do you _know_ how stubborn you are?" she asked him.

"Pfft," he grumbled. " 'Bout as stubborn as you, I reckon." Then suddenly they both chuckled. How could they not, when it was so obviously true?

He saw her shiver and pull the blanket around herself, but she continued to shiver. He had to admit, he was feeling a little cold himself. He thought back to the hunting lodge and the night they'd sat outside keeping watch in the cold rain, huddled together.

She looked over at Daryl, who appeared to be momentarily lost in his thoughts, and exhaled softly. She'd been trying to keep herself from focusing on the fact that she was in a barn, but every time she looked down over the interior ledge at the open barn below, she swore she heard the groans of walkers, though she knew they weren't there. What's worse, she was sure that she saw Sophia's dull eyes peering up at her from below. She pulled her knees up to her chest, leaning her chin down on them and hugged her legs tightly. _It's just a barn. An empty barn_, she told herself.

Daryl looked around, pulling himself out of his thoughts, and saw that Carol had rolled up in what looked like a little ball. He doubted that it was only the cold that was bothering her enough to make her curl up like that. Trying to quickly determine the best course of action, he scooted himself a few feet to one side so that his back was against the side wall of the hayloft. On his right he could look outside, and on his left he could look down into the interior of the barn.

"Alright, scoot yer ass over here," he told her. His tone was low and gravely, the one she'd always found comforting. She didn't know what he had in mind, but leaning against the wall looked like a good idea if they were gonna stay awake. She uncurled herself from the ball she'd formed, thankful for the excuse to move closer to him, and started to scoot toward the wall. Before she got there, he motioned for her to sit in front of him. She raised her eyebrows at him, but he just rolled his eyes. "Woman, I swear, just shut up," he told her in his "I want to _sound_ annoyed but I'm not really annoyed" voice. Others would have mistaken it for real annoyance, but Carol knew better.

"I didn't say a word," she said innocently. She didn't know what to think, but over time she had slowly begun to notice that Daryl only seemed to initiate physical contact as a problem solving technique. If that was what he was doing, she wondered what problem he was trying to solve.

She pulled the blankets off her shoulders, holding it around the front of her. "Scoot back," he said, leaning forward so that his voice was almost in her ear. She turned around to look at him, confused. "We got _one_ of the world's worst blankets 'tween the two of us, can't have ya freezin' to death. Or me either, for that matter." He paused and watched her process what he was suggesting.

"You sure?" she asked, looking him straight in the eyes. He knew what she was asking him, and he nodded. Surprise was written all over her face. Still, to Daryl this made perfect sense.

"_Stop_," he said. "C'mere." She started scooting slowly backwards, and then felt his arms pulling her even further backwards, until she was leaning back against his chest. She straightened the blanket so that it covered as much area as possible in front of them. He fastened his arms around her under the blanket, and she put her arms over his, settling against him. She was having trouble believing that they were actually sitting there that way, and she certainly wasn't going to complain. She was almost afraid to move for fear that he'd change his mind.

"Warm enough?" he asked in her ear.

She nodded against him. "Yes, much better," she said simply.

"You okay? 'M sorry it had to be a barn," he said softly.

"I'm okay," she whispered, touched that as always, he just knew. Of course he did. "Much better now," she said again. She could've told him how much she liked where she was just then, but she didn't want to say anything that would spook him. It seemed best not make a big deal of it.

"Good," he replied softly.

Though she'd insisted that she wasn't going to sleep, now that she was so warm and comfortable, she felt her eyes getting heavy after only a few minutes. She had jerked herself awake more than once when she heard him whisper in her ear, "Just go to sleep already."

She smiled despite herself, because _of course_ he had noticed the sudden movements. She couldn't claim that she wasn't tired. "I was trying to stay awake to keep you company," she protested weakly, knowing what he was going to say next.

"Woman, just go to sleep," he growled in her ear. "You're good company even when you're sleepin'." Suddenly, she was too tired to fight it. What was more, she didn't want to. After all, she couldn't think of anywhere that could possibly be more comfortable or safer than where she was just then.

"Okay," she whispered, smiling and letting her eyes fall closed.

What would it mean for the two of them? Maybe something, and maybe nothing. Hell if she knew. But if she'd learned one thing, it was that you couldn't live like that, so worried about the future that you couldn't live in the present. Who even knew if there'd _be_ a future anymore? None of them knew how much time they had left. No, she'd worry about that tomorrow. For tonight, she was right where she wanted to be.

Daryl felt her breathing slow down until he was pretty sure that she was asleep. He would never have suggested that they sit this close if it hadn't been so damn cold, of course, but now that they were there… he didn't hate it. They'd ended up that way without him giving it much thought beyond how they'd stay warm. That was how they always ended up close together – out of necessity, whether it was because of the cold, her nightmares... whatever. He had to admit to himself, he liked it. It just didn't seem like something he could manage when there wasn't a _reason_.

Still, for that moment, it didn't matter. They were alive, they were safe, and she was sleeping against his chest. The rest could wait until morning.HHH


	59. Safe

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but I'll just pretend I do.**

**During the 30 Days Between Seasons 3 and 4**

**In a Hayloft, Not Quite A Half An Hour Drive From the Prison, Dawn**

The sky was just barely pink in the distance when Carol felt herself begin to wake up. Before she even opened her eyes, she began to take in her surroundings. The hard floor of the hayloft that she was sitting on would probably leave her a little sore, but she almost didn't notice. What she did notice was that her cheek was leaning against the soft, worn cotton of Daryl's shirt, and she couldn't help but smile. The faint scent of leather was there too, from his angel wing vest, which he hadn't taken off the night before in an attempt to preserve as much warmth as possible. Both were dirty, but then, so was everything that both of them were wearing. Their clothes were often dirty. She did what she could with laundry at the prison, but clothes were always in short supply with so many people to provide for, and it wasn't as easy as throwing them in a washing machine. They'd all long since made friends with dirt.

She felt his chest rising and falling under her head and knew that he was still asleep. Sighing ever so quietly with contentment, she held herself as still as possible, perfectly happy with where she was and not wanting to break the spell by waking him up. She was almost sure that she wouldn't get a chance to be this close to him again any time soon.

As she sat and enjoyed the stillness around them, she tried to memorize that moment. His arms were still fastened around her beneath the blanket, having slipped down near her waist as they'd settled in and fallen asleep. She'd turned slightly on her right side to lean her cheek against him and her arms were curled around his right arm, his cheek barely resting against the side of her head. In short, she thought, the moment could not possibly have been any cuter if they'd tried.

She was glad that she was awake first, because she could only imagine that Daryl, once he woke up and realized that they'd made it through the night, would probably feel like he needed to get up and put distance between them again, or at least she imagined that he would. Sure, he'd slowly been flinching less at times when they'd come into contact, and he _had_ been the one to insist that they sit in their current position, but that was different. He had done it to keep them warm. She was expecting him to wake up, feel awkward and want to move away from her. A heavy sigh escaped her involuntarily at the thought, then cursed herself for even that slight movement and sound, because it made him begin to stir.

_You're used to baby steps,_ she reminded herself, _and this wasn't exactly a baby step. Don't get greedy. Besides, you don't even know if there's even… anything there._ All she did know was that she liked being exactly where she was.

It was hard for her not to over think whatever it was she had with Daryl and to be patient with the seemingly glacial pace at which things between them moved. Sometimes it was enough to make her wonder if it was all just her imagination. Usually it was the tiniest of things that made her think that they might have something that went beyond just a deep connection; a look, a gesture… he would do something small enough that she would wonder if he even knew he was doing it. Still, there was enough to make everyone _else_ wonder if there was something between them, so at least she wasn't alone in her wondering.

In the past twenty four hours, however, she'd had more clues than ever, not least the way they were sitting right now. It seemed impossible to be sure. _Nothing_ was for sure anymore, except that there would be danger around every corner. There was nothing to say that they'd ever be this close again. But then, she reasoned with herself, there had never been any guarantees in life, even before the Turn. Things were more dangerous now, yes, but if anything, it made them all appreciate the good things that they had that much more. She turned her attention back to the here and now, trying to soak up the last minutes before Daryl woke up, which would surely be soon.

"Good morning." She'd barely felt him stir, when suddenly she heard him speaking almost directly into her ear. His voice was sleepy, a little lower and even more gravely than usual, and she swore she could hear him smiling, though she couldn't see his face because she still hadn't opened her eyes.

"Mmmmmmm," she mumbled in reply, not wanting to admit that she was already awake. She could feel as well as hear him chuckle slightly at her response, leaning against him as she was.

She'd expected him to move to get up right away, even feared slightly that he would push her away as an initial reaction upon realizing just how close they were. However, she was surprised to feel him settle comfortably into the position in which they'd been sleeping. She would almost have called it a snuggle.

"Comfy?" he asked her, again in her ear. She could hear the amusement in his voice, and she figured that he must be reacting to how she was leaning against him and refusing to even open her eyes. Despite all of the terrifyingly close calls that they'd had on the run and the fact that they still weren't back at the relative safety of the prison, not to mention the fact that they had spent the night in a _barn_, of all places, she really didn't want to move towards leaving just yet. She knew that she would have to get up momentarily, she just couldn't make herself do it. She was simply too comfortable. She didn't respond, feigning sleep.

"Alright Sleepin' Beauty," he said teasingly, "time to wake up." She scrunched up her face and growled slightly in displeasure, as she remembered Sophia doing on occasional days when she didn't want to get up for school. The memory of it only caused her a passing stab of pain and she caught her breath quickly, forcing herself to smile at it instead. Her baby had been beautiful, and she didn't allow herself to dwell on the loss. Not now.

"Don't wanna," she mumbled, now being the one to play the part of the stubborn child who didn't want to get up for school. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, but couldn't contain the smile that worked its way across her face. It was all she could do not to laugh.

He shook his head at her. "Damn, but you're stubborn, ya know that? Open yer eyes and see the sunrise, woman," he barked playfully at her, knowing that that would be what would work. "It's a good one."

Carol was torn. She knew that if she opened her eyes, she had to admit that it was time to be awake and then, in another minute or so, leave the comfortable position she was in. Then again, she'd always loved sunrises, and she could watch it with Daryl – unless he bolted for some reason, which seemed very unlikely at this point. After another minute of debate with herself, she sighed dramatically and blinked her eyes open. Daryl had been right, it was beautiful. The sky was a swirling mix of colors, changing every moment. They sat quietly and watched it for a few minutes, both of them staring out into the distance.

_It's hard to believe that something so beautiful still exists in the middle of all this… _she thought.

His voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She still wasn't used to him talking so close to her ear, and it kept surprising her, not unpleasantly. "Worth openin' yer eyes for?" She leaned back slightly to look up at him, and found him grinning at her, his amusement with her written all over his face.

"Yeah," she replied with a smile. She felt herself blushing ever so slightly and quickly turned to look back at the sky.

Finally, there was a familiar gurgling noise, which made them both laugh. "Was that your stomach, or mine?" Daryl asked her. They were so close together, it was hard to tell.

"Yours," she replied with a laugh. "I think there's some food left in my bag. We didn't eat very much yesterday."

"We were kinda preoccupied with stayin' alive, I guess," he observed. She nodded, thinking about how many things had happened to them the day before. It seemed completely impossible. Looking around for her bag, she realized that it was still in the backseat of the car. _Damn_, she thought, knowing that Daryl was probably about to go after it.

"The food's in your bag, right?" he asked seconds later. She nodded. "The bag's in the car, ain't it?"

Sighing, she nodded again. "Yeah," she said reluctantly.

"Alright, I'm gonna grab it so we can eat somethin', then we gotta get movin'. Can't hang out here all day. I imagine you wanna get outta this barn," he added, looking down at her.

She sighed again, considering for a moment what to say. "The barn wasn't as bad as I thought. Kinda comfy, actually," she said sheepishly, not looking back up at him. "Though I definitely would've felt differently if I'd been here on my own," she added quietly. Again, she felt herself blushing a little, and wondered if her thoughts were as obvious to him this time as they sometimes were.

"Good," he replied, not seeming to notice how awkward she felt. "Definitely better'n sleepin' out in the open, or in the car." His arms tightened around her slightly for just a second in what felt like a squeeze and then, as she'd known he would, he let them drop so that he could push himself up off the floor. She reluctantly scooted herself forward to give him space to get up. Her back immediately felt cold as the morning air rushed toward it, her heater no longer in place. As he climbed down the ladder she shifted the blanket around to her back to try to compensate for the loss of heat behind her.

She heard the car unlocking, heard him rummaging around in the backseat, then the electronic chirp sounded again and the next thing she knew, he was climbing back up the ladder with her bag in his hand. He passed it to her and she removed the remaining food from inside as he sat down facing her. She lamented the fact that he now felt so far away, and immediately told herself she was being silly, since he was right in front of her.

As he sat down directly in front of her with the food, he noticed that it now felt strange to him to sit facing her. Maybe not _strange_. He tried to identify what he was feeling. The night before, he'd initially pulled her close to him to be sure that they both stayed warm without much thought, but the longer they'd sat there, the more his thoughts had crept in. He had been surprised to find that he didn't mind being so close to her, that he'd even liked it. He wouldn't have been surprised to have felt awkward, as we would've felt if he'd been that close to anyone else, but somehow he just didn't. As unexpected as it was, he kinda wished that there was an excuse to sit that way again now that it was morning.

There were several pieces of jerky made out of whatever Daryl had trapped recently and one can of corn. She passed him a fork and they shared the can between them while splitting the jerky. In a few minutes, they had finished eating and the supplies were back in her bag.

"So," Daryl said, "the choices are… we walk back to the prison together, which will be real slow with that ankle of yours, an' then I get Rick er someone to drive back here with me for the car. Could be trouble if we run into walkers 'cause we won't be able to run. Or, you stay here 'n I run back, then get Rick er someone to ride back with me for you an' the car, an' you get a ride home. Either way I gotta go and come back. The difference is what _you_ do."

She bit her lip. There were things about both plans that bothered her. She knew that Daryl was right that it would take a lot longer if they walked together. If they encountered walkers along the way, she would be a liability not being able to walk, even though she was a good fighter. But she also knew that she didn't want to sit and wait in the barn. It hadn't bothered her to be there with Daryl, but being there alone would be different. Still, she knew that only one option really made sense, and she sighed and picked up a piece of hay, twisting it between her fingers in frustration. She could only hope he'd be back before nightfall. Maybe during the day it wouldn't seem as bad as it had when they'd first arrived in the dark. Maybe she could hold her thoughts at bay that long.

"I know, it doesn't make sense for us to walk together with my ankle messed up… so I just need to sit here and _wait_," she replied only slightly dramatically, without looking at him. She concentrated on twisting the hay between her fingers until it fell apart. She grabbed another piece and started the same methodical torture.

He chuckled sympathetically. "OK, 'm glad I didn't have to say it, but it don't really make sense no other way," he told her. "Won't be long though, promise. Okay?" She nodded at the hay between her fingers, sulking a little. He watched her with amusement, knowing that she was partially acting for his benefit, even if she wasn't actually happy with the arrangement. "I kept you safe so far, haven't I?" he asked, his voice a combination of playful teasing and warmth. It made her look up from the new piece of hay that she was twisting between her fingers.

"Yes, ever since the world went to hell," she sighed. "So don't stop now." There was just a hint of desperation in her voice, and he wished there was a third option that didn't involve leaving her behind.

"I know you ain't happy about it, but you'll be fine. You ain't defenseless like you were back then. You've come a long way." It was quite amazing to him, actually, how far she'd come. "You wanna wait up here, or in the car?" he asked, moving the conversation along. She considered the choices for a moment, and decided she'd rather stay where she was. Despite the safety of the car, it also felt somewhat claustrophobic, especially knowing that it wasn't going to move without gas. If walkers _did_ somehow get into the barn, being surrounded by them on all sides wouldn't be fun, even if they couldn't get to her.

"Right here," she replied, scooting back until she was sitting in the same spot where he had been leaning against the wall. "It's my lucky spot."

"Pfft," he mumbled, "alright then, I'll be back soon." He stood up, brushing one of his hands against her shoulder lightly as he did so, then nodded at her without another word and walked toward the ladder. She smiled weakly at him as she watched him descend the ladder, feeling slightly like her stomach was dropping just as quickly as Daryl was going down the ladder. A moment later she head the main door of the barn creak open, then close again with a thud as the latch caught.

There was nothing to do now but wait, and she took a deep breath to calm her already shaky nerves. _It's just a barn, just a building like any other, _she thought.

He had nothing with which to secure the door, so he just had to hurry and hope that everything would be alright. The barn seemed to have been undisturbed up til now, possibly in all the time since the Turn, and he hoped that it would stay that way for another few hours. He made his way into the nearby woods in the direction of the prison as quickly as he could while still staying quiet enough not to attract any undesirable attention. He knew that it was now up to him to ensure that not only the supplies, but Carol herself, made it back to the prison safely. He had only a certain amount of control over whether this happened or not, of course, but he would do everything in his power to make sure that nothing happened to her.

God help anyone or anything that got in his way.


	60. Waiting

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… as my husband keeps pointing out.**

**During the 30 Days Between Seasons 3 and 4**

**In a Hayloft, Not Quite A Half An Hour Drive From the Prison, Morning**

She'd been sitting in the hayloft waiting for Daryl, doing a decent job telling herself that everything was fine and that there was no cause for alarm, for about half an hour before she sensed it. Something was off. She couldn't hear anything in particular, other than a noticeable silence around the barn. There were no sounds of birds or other living things within earshot. Her thoughts had been drifting from one thing to another just before she noticed this feeling, so she wasn't sure which sounds exactly had ceased, she just knew that suddenly it was eerily still. Her eyes darted around the surrounding land quickly, looking for any clue to what was going on.

It was most likely one of three things. First, but probably least likely, it could be a fire somewhere in the distance… but in that case, she would probably see or smell smoke. Second, and next lease likely, was that there were other people nearby. They didn't see many others come through the area, though they had encountered a few from time to time. The most likely reason for the silence, of course, was the one she had been most hoping to go just a few hours without seeing – walkers.

She strained her ears, expecting to hear their moans, but heard only silence. At least that meant that there was still a chance that they'd pass by without coming directly through the field where the barn sat. She focused once again on both taking slow, deep breaths and listening as hard as she could for noises. Looking out into the distance in the direction from which they had come the night before, she was grateful to see that wherever the danger was coming from, they at least didn't seem to have followed them from the shopping center they'd searched the previous day. There'd been a rather large herd there, from what they'd gotten to see, and it would be better not to lead them straight back to the prison.

Glancing across the hayloft to the interior of the barn, she noticed that the ladder was still extended to the ground. She knew that walkers weren't able to climb ladders, however, she also knew that if walkers did somehow get into the barn, that they'd likely break the ladder in pieces just from the sheer force of pushing against it with their bodies. While she knew that even without the ladder, she and Daryl would find a way to get her down from the hayloft, it seemed easier not to put them in that situation in the first place if she could help it.

Leaving her "lucky spot" for the first time since she'd been alone in the barn, she crawled carefully over to the edge of the hayloft and considered the ladder, and just how difficult it would be to pull up. It seemed especially daunting without being able to stand up for extra leverage, but she wasn't one to back down from a challenge. So she sat on her knees in front of the ladder and grabbed the two sides near the top, attempting to lift it while also pulling slightly towards her, scooting back slowly as she did so. While it _was_ heavy, she felt it move slightly in her direction. She braced herself against the weight, leaning back to attempt to make herself a counterweight to the heavy pieces of wood.

She slowly walked backwards on her knees, all the while inching her hands down the ladder one at a time, as more and more of it came above the line of the hayloft. It was very slow going. What's more, she was running out of room to back up across the hayloft and she was starting to get tired. If she didn't get to the end of the ladder soon, so that she could attempt to lift the whole thing into the loft, she would have at least one new problem. Trying not to focus on that, she continued her slow task.

Just as she started thinking that she'd never see the bottom of the ladder, she saw the end swing into view. She let out a small sigh of relief and stopped inching backwards, instead moving to the side to pull the ladder straight towards her, beginning to walk forward on her knees. When she reached the middle of the ladder, she began turning it so that it was parallel to the edge of the hayloft, then pulled it up the rest of the way and rested it on the floor at the edge. She'd done it. She felt no small sense of accomplishment as she sat, with the ladder laying on the floor in front of her, panting slightly, small beads of sweat having formed on her face from the exertion of what she'd done.

Her good feelings, however, disappeared as she moved slightly back toward the outer edge of the platform on which she sat, because down on the ground outside the barn she could now see them. Walkers. From where she sat she couldn't tell how many there were, but there were more than a few. Slowly, so that she didn't attract their attention, she moved back from the edge and flattened herself on her back against the platform of the hayloft, among what little hay was left up there. From there, she could look up at both the ceiling of the barn and, if she shifted her head slightly, the sky.

She turned her face toward the sky. It was a clear, cloudless day outside. The moans of the walkers reached her ears, but she did her best to tune them out. Instead, she replayed for herself a morning when she and Sophia had been at the park together.

It had been a gorgeous spring day, the sky similar to the one she was now looking at. Ed had been off fishing with his friends for the weekend, and she and Sophia had laid on their backs in the grass side by side for hours, just enjoying the peace, the sun, and each other's company. She continued to replay that day in as much detail as possible, refusing to hear the walkers' moans from down below her, refusing to hear anything but the peaceful sounds of nature that she'd heard on that sunny afternoon with her daughter.

Though she knew that it wasn't, it felt so real to her. It was just as if she was there again. Still, she clung fast to the memory, knowing that it was far preferable to what was now happening around her. For the moment she was safe where she was, and she could afford to tune out the real world. Facing her current situation would only have made her more anxious. She couldn't make Daryl come back any faster, and looking down at however many walkers there were down there wouldn't change the fact that they were there. No, she was better off thinking only of Sophia, remembering the day that they'd sat so still for so long that a butterfly had fluttered down low enough that it had almost landed on Sophia's face. Her life then had been far from perfect, but that day, that moment, had certainly been just that.

She lay there among the hay, flat on her back, as walkers streamed around the sides of the barn. A few of them bumped into the walls as they went, but they largely continued on aimlessly amidst the herd. It was better that she couldn't see them, since there was nothing she could do but wait them out. It was a relatively large herd, though not the biggest they'd encountered. Her only thought that wasn't of Sophia was that Daryl would be there soon. She told herself that over and over.

…

Daryl set off from the barn at a good pace. He knew better than to take off running from the beginning, since it was a long walk and he'd need energy to get all the way there. He was guessing that he had at least ten miles left before he reached the prison, maybe a little more. He needed to go quickly, but he needed to make sure he made it there, which meant he needed to go quietly. He chose to walk under the cover of the woods that lined the far side of the road they'd been driving on. He knew the direction he needed to head in, and he knew that it wouldn't be long before he recognized the terrain that surrounded the prison. He'd been hunting in those woods since they had first arrived.

He'd been walking at a decent pace for about an hour or so when a feeling of unease crept over him. He stopped in his tracks and did a sweep of the surrounding area, quickly scanning to try to figure out what had him so on edge. He couldn't identify any threats nearby. The woods sounded just as they always did; quiet, but not silent. There was the soft rustle of nature, of the wind in the trees, of everything as it should be. And yet, he had a feeling that he couldn't shake, that he couldn't identify. He tried to push himself to walk a little faster, hoping that it was just his imagination.

Daryl's trek through the woods was relatively uneventful. It took him nearly three hours, but he finally emerged from the woods that surrounded the perimeter fences and headed straight for the main gate where Carl was on gate duty.

"Daryl!" Carl called in surprise and alarm. The boy rushed to open the outer gate for him, concern written all over his face. "Where's Carol? What _happened_ to you guys? You were supposed to be back yesterday! And where's the car?" His eyes were wide with fear. They had secured the outer gate and come through the inner gate, securing that as well.

"Carol's fine. She fucked up her ankle on the run. We got a ton of supplies, but the car ran outta gas bout ten miles back, just before sunset last night. Pushed it into a barn, an' we spent the night in the hayloft. Had to leave her there cause of her ankle. Gonna get someone to drive back with me so we can get her and the other car and all the shit we found."

Carl nodded, then took off running up the hill toward the prison ahead of Daryl, whose pace had slowed down only slightly from what it had been on his way back. He was tired from his trek back from the barn, and was glad to have made it back safely, but he was anxious to get back on the road and make sure that Carol got back safely, as well as the car full of supplies that they desperately needed. Thinking about her sitting in the hayloft, he pushed himself to increase his pace again. _It's almost over, _he told himself.

In the courtyard, Rick and several of the others were already gathering outside when Daryl reached the gate, which Maggie swung open for him. Daryl retold the quick version of the story, the one he'd told Carl but with a little more detail about the events at the shopping center itself. He promised to tell them all more of it later, but for the moment his main concern was getting back on the road. Glenn volunteered to drive back to the barn with him, and they quickly found a few small gas cans, already filled, that they could bring with them to refuel the empty SUV.

Without wasting any more time, the two men hopped in a beat up truck as Carl ran back down the hill to open the outer gates for them. Maggie leaned through the passenger side window to kiss Glenn goodbye, then they drove through the gate that surrounded the courtyard. She locked it again after them and everyone waved, hoping to see them driving back with both vehicles again soon. Carl eased the lower gates open for them, closing them swiftly behind the truck before any of the few walkers milling about outside had a chance to enter, and the two were on their way back to the barn. Daryl still had that anxious feeling that had settled upon him in the woods, and he found himself pushing slightly harder on the accelerator than was necessarily wise for the winding road just outside the prison. He needed to get back there.

Everyone knew that Daryl wasn't generally friendly or talkative, but Glenn sensed as they drove that Daryl was extra wound up just then. "You okay, Daryl?"

"Huh? Yeah, just got a bad feelin's all," Daryl replied. Glenn nodded.

"You said she's up in the hayloft, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," Daryl said gruffly. "Long as she stays put. Can't easily get down that ladder herself on that ankle, but ya know how stubborn she can be…" He trailed off, thinking about Carol and her stubbornness. Her strength. Her selflessness. He gritted his teeth harder and pushed down on the accelerator with slightly more force. Glenn grimaced as they rounded a bend in the road faster than was probably wise, but said nothing.

Even after all this time together, no one in the group could figure out the Daryl and Carol dynamic, but it was clear to Glenn that Daryl was worried about her. He tried to imagine what he would do, how he would feel, if it were Maggie in Carol's place. He didn't even like to imagine such a thing. No, he could certainly understand the intensity with which Daryl was gripping the steering wheel and the extra speed with which he was taking the corners. If anything, Daryl's behavior was giving Glenn a little more insight into the nature of the relationship between Carol and Daryl.

They drove in silence for about fifteen minutes before they rounded a bend and Daryl slammed on the brakes abruptly. In front of them, the road stretched long and straight, and the trees grew thick on the left side of the road, but a field stretched out in front of them on the right. In the distance they could see a large barn, though from where they sat it looked tiny because of the distance. Between them and the barn, there were walkers. It was hard to say how many, but it was a lot of them.

"Fuck…" Daryl hissed under his breath, at the same time that Glenn inhaled sharply. There was no way that the two of them could make a dent in that herd alone.

They would have to wait where they were, and hope that the walkers didn't turn and come in their direction.

It was going to be a long day.


	61. Pookie

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… **

**During the 30 Days Between Seasons 3 and 4**

**In a Hayloft, Not Quite A Half An Hour Drive From the Prison, Morning**

Carol lay on her back in the hayloft, focused on the sky and her memories of the long ago day with Sophia to block out what was happening so close by, for what felt like hours. At some point she fell into a fitful sleep, her dreams filled with the usual terrors. Luckily, in this case at least, she'd had these dreams many times in the past. Because of this, they didn't alarm her to the point that she called out in her sleep, which would have gotten the walkers' attention. So she lay, mostly still, as the herd fumbled around clumsily just below her. There were the _thuds_ of walkers walking straight into walls on the outside of the barn, but thankfully they didn't attempt to break down the door or push _through_ the walls.

She wouldn't exactly say that she was _safe_, but she wasn't quite in immediate danger. Still, when she woke up again to find the sun slightly past the middle of the sky, telling her that it was now afternoon, she had to admit to being dismayed to find that the herd had not yet moved on. She knew that Daryl and whoever came back with him wouldn't be able to approach the barn as long as that herd was there. She was beginning to get hungry, and dreaded the thought of a night _alone_ there.

From the car, parked down the road, Daryl and Glenn had been discussing their best options. They were going to _have_ to get to that barn, the sooner the better. If it had been just the supplies, they could've come back the following day to see if the herd had moved on. However, it was crucial that they get to Carol as soon as they could. Daryl knew that she didn't have any more food and probably not any water by now, and only that one thin blanket. However, they wouldn't have a chance in hell of getting in there unless at least most of the herd moved on. That particular herd didn't look like it was moving especially fast, so it was going to be a while… a long, _frustrating_ while. Daryl was getting more and more pissed off with the walkers by the minute.

There were just no good options. It was risky to stay where they were, though they were parked at the far end of the field, just where they'd screeched to a stop as they came around the corner. If the walkers caught their scent or otherwise noticed that they were over there, they themselves could be overrun. The car afforded them some safety, but neither of them wanted to be trapped in a car in the middle of a large herd. If they went back any further, on the other hand, they wouldn't be able to see the barn or what was going on. If they waited where they were and the walkers noticed them, they couldn't go back the way they had come from, since they ran the risk of drawing the walkers back towards the prison. Every option seemed to have a significant flaw attached to it, so they decided that, for the moment, they would stay where they were and wait, hoping that they wouldn't have to wait _too_ long before they could get into the barn.

Daryl drummed his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently. Glenn, who'd been staring at the herd in the distance as it moved painfully slowly, turned and looked at him. Daryl saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, and nodded glumly while still facing the road. Glenn could tell that he was worried, and he couldn't blame him. Neither of them spoke, but it was pretty clear what they were both thinking about.

_Come on…_ Daryl thought for the thousandth time. _Get the hell outta there, ya fukers._ Glenn's thoughts were similar, if somewhat cleaner.

_It's going to be another long fucking day_, Daryl realized, resting his head momentarily on the steering wheel. His head was pounding from the storm raging within. He was powerless to help Carol until the herd moved on, and he _hated_ feeling powerless.

By late afternoon, the herd seemed to finally be beginning to move along. There were still more walkers milling around the base of the barn than they were comfortable taking on with just the two of them, but at least there was hope that it would be clearing up… eventually. Daryl's impatience was reaching a fever pitch. It would be dark soon, and his concern for Carol only continued to grow. He was thinking about the fact that she would be getting very hungry by now, and realized that he was, as well.

"We got any food in this fuckin' truck?" Daryl grumbled at Glenn, who looked surprised for a moment, before realizing that his friends wouldn't have eaten much in the past twenty four hours.

"Umm, lemme see," Glenn replied unsurely, turning around to look in the space on the floor behind the front seats. It was empty. "There _should've_ been some here… but apparently it hadn't been refilled since the last run we took this truck on," he sighed, hating to be the one to deliver the bad news. "Luckily, we're not far from home… er, the prison. We just have to _get _there."

Daryl grumbled something unintelligible.

"If the herd hasn't moved on by nightfall…" Glenn began to ask the question, but didn't finish it. Daryl was looking straight ahead towards the barn, looking like he was willing the walkers to move along using his mind alone. Glenn had a feeling he knew what Daryl was going to say.

"Not fuckin' leaving," Daryl growled. "We're gonna be able to get in there soon. We _have to_. Can't let her stay in there alone all night."

"But if—" Glenn started, but Daryl quickly cut him off.

"_Don't_," Daryl warned him sternly. "We're getting' in that fuckin' barn. _Soon._ That's all there is to it."

Glenn nodded silently, looking back towards the barn. Daryl was not going to be talked out of this. He only hoped that Daryl's desperation, which was pretty obvious at the moment, didn't make him take unnecessary risks with all of their lives. They sat there for another hour, watching the light fade in the distance, watching the walkers move away from the barn, albeit agonizingly slowly, thankfully heading away from the prison.

Finally, when the sun was low enough that there was probably an hour of daylight left, at the most, before it was completely dark, Daryl suddenly sat forward in his seat. He appeared to be evaluating the situation. Glenn looked from Daryl to the barn and back to Daryl again, watching the wheels turn in his friend's head. They couldn't see exactly how many walkers were left from that distance, but it was dramatically less that it had been when they'd arrived in the late morning. This was their last chance for today.

"Alright, I think we got a shot now. I'm gonna get in the truck bed, you drive up by the barn and I'm gonna take out as many as I can while we're drivin'. Like we did back at the farm the night we left. Do a circle around the barn so none of the fuckers can hide on the other side before we go inside. Hopefully we'll get 'em all that way."

Glenn nodded, thinking grimly of the last night at the farm. Things hadn't exactly gone according to plan, but replicating that part of it in this situation seemed to make the most sense. "You only have so many arrows. You got back up?" Glenn asked him.

Daryl nodded, putting his hand to a gun tucked into his waistband and then a knife in its sheath on his belt as a way of both checking for himself and answering his friend's question. "Best case, we pull up in front of the barn, open the doors and go in that way. I got the keys to the car with the supplies inside. It's crammed full. You drive that one back, and Carol and I'll take the truck. Worst case, we pull up below the hayloft and get her to jump into the truck bed."

Daryl watched Glenn's eyes grow wide at that suggestion. It was definitely not his preferred approach, but if they had to do it, he'd be back in the truck bed both to fend off walkers reaching in, and try to catch her, or at least break her fall somehow. He looked at Glenn and shook his head. "I know that one's not ideal. Like I said, worst case. Most important thing is gettin' her outta there. The supplies'll keep in the barn another night. I ain't worried 'bout those."

Glenn nodded. It all sounded like as good a plan as any. He wished they could've waited until the area was clear of walkers, but he was also concerned for Carol's safety and well-being, and knew that the sooner they got her out of there, the better. He gritted his teeth and prepared himself to execute their plan. The two of them got out of the truck and walked around the outside, Glenn getting into the driver's seat and Daryl climbing into the truck bed, double checking that his crossbow was ready for action. He thumped on the window that separated him from the cab, signaling Glenn that he was ready, and they took off down the road toward the barn.

This was it. Time for action.

By going in on the truck, they hadn't exactly opted for stealth mode. The walkers who were still milling around the barn turned towards them as soon as they heard the engine approaching. Luckily, speed was not the walkers' strength, so the drive by shooting reduced their numbers significantly in only a few minutes. Daryl had emptied his supply of arrows into the first twelve walkers, which had given him the chance to jump out of the truck and begin collecting them. As he twisted the bolts out of the corpses on the ground, seven more approached at varying speeds from around both sides of the barn, from which they were now only about thirty feet away.

Carol had been lying on her back in the hayloft for the better part of the day, trying not to let herself look down at the walkers below. Each time she had hazarded a glance in their direction, she had felt her pulse start to race and her anxiety build. There always seemed to be so many walkers. Finally she stopped looking, doing her best to block their moaning from her ears. She was now growing anxious over the fact that it was nearly dark and she was still in the barn, alone. She knew that Daryl would get her out of there just as soon as he was able, she just really hoped that it would be soon.

Then suddenly as the sun sank behind the trees and the shadows climbed ever higher on the barn walls, she had heard an engine rumbling in her direction, growing louder with each passing moment. She exhaled with relief, pulling herself up so that she was leaning back on her elbows and looking for the source of the sound. She couldn't see it at first, since it had come from the other direction, but it wasn't long before she saw the familiar truck swing around the side of the barn, Daryl in the back, shooting walkers with his crossbow. They continued around to the other side of the barn where she couldn't see them, but she heard the engine and squeal of the tires and knew they were still moving. The moans of the walkers grew less, and she suspected that they were getting closer to having taken out the ones who had remained behind the herd.

Glenn jumped out of the truck and Daryl, having reloaded his crossbow, joined him, and between the two of them they took out the closest six walkers in a matter of a few minutes. The seventh one had gone around the far side of them, its way blocked by so many other corpses already lying on the ground. The moaning gave it away, however, and Daryl hung back as Glenn stepped forward to plunge his knife easily into its soft skull. After killing so many since the Turn, sometimes it almost felt easy.

The sound of the engine stopped and she held her breath, listening as hard as she could for any sound that would give her a clue as to what was going on. She knew that the group operated so methodically with walkers by this point that it was unlikely that she would hear any voices until it was clear. When it came to handling walkers, most of the group could read each other by sight alone. Still, she strained for any sounds that might come. She heard a few very faint _thunks_ of Daryl's crossbow along with some sounds that sounded vaguely like a scuffle, but nothing serious. And then, silence. Without realizing it, she held her breath, waiting to hear voices. _Something_.

The two men walked around the barn cautiously, staying close to the walls. Daryl led the way, peering around each corner, crossbow aimed in front of him. They wanted to ensure that at least for the moment, there were no walkers nearby to surprise them. Completing their lap around the barn without finding any more threats, they nodded at each other in satisfaction.

"Let's pull the truck in while we get Carol, so we don't get cut off from it," Daryl advised.

"Right," Glenn replied, taking off for the truck at a jog as Daryl unlatched the barn doors. Those doors moved just as slowly and with the same loud creak that they had earlier, but they seemed to Daryl to be a hundred times slower and a thousand times louder this time. Before pulling them open all the way, he glanced around into the distance as far as he could see, looking to see if the noise from the truck, which Glenn was now idling in front of him, or the barn doors had attracted any undesirable attention. It didn't appear that it had, so he pulled the doors the rest of the way open. Glenn backed the truck into the barn, parking it beside the SUV that was loaded with supplies, and then helped Daryl pull the doors closed behind them. As he did so, they were momentarily blinded by the darkness inside the barn. The only dim light was now coming from the hayloft, which was open to the outside and what little hints of sunlight remained.

Carol heard the doors of the barn creak open, and scooted over toward the edge where the ladder was laying, ready to be put back down. Chances are that it was Daryl opening the doors, but experience had taught her that you could never be too careful. She saw the shadow of a truck backing in beside the SUV. Again, she was relatively sure it was their truck, but she couldn't be sure. She stayed just a little ways back from the edge, just in case, holding her breath and hoping it was them.

Glenn cut the motor on the truck and got out, leaving the door slightly ajar so they could keep their noise to a minimum. He stood beside the truck, his eyes adjusting slowly to the dark. Daryl walked carefully around the SUV, flashlight in hand, shining the beam up toward the hayloft.

"Carol," Daryl whispered, "You okay up there?" The next second he saw her appear at the edge of the hayloft, grinning from ear to ear.

"Took you long enough, Dixon," she said good-naturedly.

"Woman, there was a herd surrounding the building the past _six hours _or so, which is how long we sat there," he growled back, still relieved to see that she was alright. "Might have had to knock Glenn out to keep him from talkin' 'bout headin' back when it got dark, too, cause there was no way I was leavin' without you."

She couldn't help but smile at that remark. For a big, tough guy he really was sweet sometimes, though she seemed to be the only one lucky enough to be on the receiving end of it. Glenn, on the other hand, was completely flustered by having been ratted out.

"I only said that it was dangerous to be out at night, and that it might not be such a good idea to be sitting in the car all night… you never know what can happen out there…" Glenn sputtered, clearly embarrassed.

Carol smiled at him, though she wasn't sure he could see it from so far away. "No hard feelings, Glenn," she said warmly, "You're right, it _IS _dangerous out there at night. Daryl's just too stubborn to think about his own safety sometimes. He tends to think about others before himself."

"Everyone except _me_, apparently…" Glenn grumbled under his breath.

"You say somethin', Rhee?" Daryl growled in his direction, turning to look over his shoulder.

"Let's focus on getting out of here, _please_?" Carol said in an attempt to change the subject.

Daryl turned back around toward her, noticing for the first time that the ladder wasn't there. He looked perplexed for a moment, then asked, "You haul the ladder all the way up there?"

"I did," she said proudly. "It's right here. Guess it's time to put it back down," she added.

"It would make things a lot easier," Daryl replied. He watched as she sat up on her knees by one end of the ladder and began to rotate it carefully so it stuck out over the edge of the hayloft, then lowered it toward the ground, all without dropping it or hitting the cars or Daryl. As soon as it came within his reach he grabbed it, and helped her lower it the rest of the way to the ground, leaning it back up against the edge of the hayloft.

"Let me tell you, that was a _lot_ easier than pulling it up," Carol told him.

He chuckled, trying to imagine her pulling it up by herself. "Sorry, I shoulda helped you pull it up before I left. Was just in such a damn hurry to go and come back again… glad you didn't end up in danger 'cause of me." He started to climb the ladder, making sure it was positioned sturdily enough to hold them both on the way down.

She shook her head at him. "You're the one who got me _out_ of danger, remember? You pushed the car from the road all the way in here. If you hadn't, and I'd stayed in the car out on the road, the walkers would've surrounded me and wouldn't have left me alone." She shivered at the thought. "You wouldn't have been able to fight your way through that herd, even with Glenn or someone else as back-up."

He was at the top of the ladder now, standing straight in front of where she was sitting on the hayloft floor. Suddenly their faces were very close together, though the quickly falling darkness cast enough shadow that it was still hard for them to see each other clearly. Still, he managed to look right into her eyes. "You know I woulda figured somethin' out. I'd never leave you in danger like that." His voice was the low growl that she loved, and she became very conscious of how close they were.

She smiled back at him, holding his gaze. "I know," she said simply. Neither of them moved. Carol had to remind herself to breathe.

They looked at each other a few seconds longer before he spoke again. "You ready to get outta here?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she said happily. "How do we do this?"

"Ankle still botherin' ya?" he asked.

"I haven't tried it since I came up here yesterday, so I'm not sure. It doesn't hurt as much right now, but standing on it… who knows?"

He nodded, and stepped down one rung on the ladder. "I'm gonna stand right here. You put your good foot on the ladder first, then slowly lower yerself down onto the other one. 'F ya can't lean on it, I'll be right here and I'll help ya down."

She nodded. "Just like you helped me _up_," she replied.

" 'Xactly," he agreed. She turned around so that she could put her foot on the ladder and hold on. Daryl backed down another rung to give her space, very conscious of how close together they were about to be. "Go slow, wanna make sure it'll hold both of us together," he told her. "Just cause it did on the way up's no guarantee."

"You guys need any help?" Glenn called from the other side of the barn. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and with the help of a flashlight from the truck, he had been watching their exchange with amusement. Those two were so clearly meant for each other, he wondered why they bothered to deny it.

"Yeah, could ya hold the ladder steady at the bottom?" Daryl called back.

"Sure thing," Glenn said, jogging over.

"Right, ya ready?" Daryl asked Carol, who had her right foot resting on the top rung of the ladder and was ready to try the next rung down with her injured left. He braced himself with his right hand tightly on the ladder, and was ready to catch her with his left arm if she faltered.

"Ready to get out of here," she replied with enthusiasm. "Let's get this over with!"

"Take it slow," Daryl cautioned her.

"I know, I know," Carol replied quickly. With all her weight on her right foot, she very slowly let her left foot drop toward the next rung down on the ladder. Almost as soon as her foot made contact with the wood, before she had put any weight on it at all, there was a shooting pain that started at her ankle and seemed to move like lightning up her spine. She let out a sharp hiss and picked up her foot again. "So, it's not better yet," she said quickly, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

" 'S what I thought," he said from behind her. He looped his left arm securely around her waist. I'm gonna move down a rung, and you're gonna hop your right foot down to the next one. Alright?" He was once again speaking almost in her ear, and for at least the third time in two days he had his arm around her. She was _not_ complaining.

"I'm ready," she said with determination.

"Alright, one, two, three… step!" Daryl was glad he'd asked Glenn to hold the ladder as he felt it wobbling when they moved together down a rung. Carol had moved her hands down the side of the ladder so she didn't lose her balance as they moved, and though hopping down a ladder certainly sounded a little risky, with Daryl's arm around her she felt perfectly safe, just a little wobbly. They stopped and caught their breaths, relieved that they hadn't fallen on their backs, at least so far.

"Lookin' good, guys!" Glenn called encouragingly from down below. "Just do that about 15 more times and you'll be down." Daryl turned and gave him a hard look, and he realized that maybe they would rather think about the steps one at a time. "Sorry, just… keep it up!" Glenn finally sputtered out. Daryl turned back to the task at hand. He was nervous, not wanting to fall backwards off the ladder, taking her with him and leaving both of them injured.

"Y'alright?" he said into her ear.

She nodded. "Of course, I have my guardian angel here to save me," she replied in the voice she always used to tease him.

_She must be really glad to get outta here if she's jokin' around at a time like this,_ he thought. His face flushed, as it usually did when she said anything remotely flirty to him, and, as usual, he mumbled "Pfft," before adding "_Stop._" She turned slightly to look at him over her shoulder, and he saw her eye him mischievously. _Oh no_, he thought, _here it comes_.

She leaned slightly closer to him and whispered, "Well, it's either that or Pookie, your choice." This time he turned beet red, though she couldn't see it in the dark.

"Woman, can we just get down the goddamn ladder? Please?" he growled at her. She tried, but failed, to stifle a giggle.

"Okay, Pookie," she whispered, attempting to stay quiet enough that Glenn wouldn't hear her.

She felt his left arm grip her waist just a little tighter, then without any further warning she heard him count to three, as he had before, and say "Step!" She smiled to herself, enjoying getting him flustered, as always.

They continued down the ladder this way, without any further conversation and only a brief stop between steps to steady themselves, all the way to the bottom. When they finally reached the bottom they were both very relieved to be off the ladder and on the ground once more.

"Glenn's gonna drive the SUV with the supplies, since it's so crammed full, and we're gonna take the truck," Daryl told Carol as he helped her walk to the passenger side of the truck. She nodded tiredly, leaning against him. Truly, she didn't care what they drove, she just wanted to get out of the barn.

"I'll unlatch the doors and peek out to see if it's clear," Glenn volunteered. Daryl nodded, helping Carol into her seat and closing the door gently behind her. He walked around to the other side of the truck as Glenn approached the barn doors, unlatching them slowly and carefully and opening one side a crack so that he could peer through. "Looks good so far," he said softly, slowly opening the door a little further. He stepped out carefully, scanning the area around the barn with his flashlight as best he could. He pushed one of the doors all the way open, so that it was wide enough to drive out through, and ran back to the SUV.

Daryl drove the truck out of the barn while Glenn turned the SUV around so that he could drive out facing forwards. Daryl pulled far enough forward that Glenn had room to drive out. While he did so, Daryl jogged back to the barn and closed the door after Glenn, latching it again. _It's no guarantee that it'll be safe if we need it again, but it can't hurt either. Maybe not for us to use, but for someone else,_ Daryl thought to himself as he jogged back to the truck.Carol followed him with her eyes, moonlight now illuminating the field, and didn't release the breath she hadn't realized she was holding until he was sitting next to her again and had closed the door.

He looked over at her as he threw the truck into drive. "Ya ready to go?"

"Yes, Pookie," she replied playfully, enjoying the look on his face as she did. His eyes snapped back to the road and he pressed down hard on the accelerator, anxious to get back to the prison.

"Woman, I swear…" he started, but let the rest of the sentence fall away.

"Yep, I'm glad _you're_ safe too," she told him with a smile.

It had been a completely horrible two days… and yet somehow, in another way the last two days had simultaneously been two of her favorites. She contemplated that fact with a smile on her face as she stared at the passing scenery on the way back to the prison.


	62. Unreadable

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but that's OK with me.**

**During the 30 Days Between Seasons 3 and 4**

**In the Car on the Road to the Prison, Night**

After two days where it felt like nearly everything that could have gone wrong, _had_ gone wrong, the drive back to the prison had been surprisingly uneventful. She'd almost expected another terrible thing to happen in that last stretch of the drive, because that seemed to be the luck they'd been having up to that point. But there were no herds of walkers, no flat tires, no ambushes by hostile gangs… nothing but the narrow road, clear of both cars and debris, now dark and quiet.

They didn't have a long way to go, and as glad as Carol would be to be back within the relatively safe confines of the prison fences, she couldn't help but wish that she could stop time and stay in the moment they were in just then, between the barn and the prison. Nothing else and no one else, just them. She couldn't stop herself from wondering if things between her and Daryl would go back to the way they had been before they'd left. Would they go back to barely seeing each other because they were so busy? Would he go back to seeming to hold everything in so tightly? For whatever reason, he'd seemed to open up a lot during the time alone with her, not even necessarily in the things he said, but also how he acted towards her… or maybe that had just been her imagination. _Something_ was different, and she hated to think that they would go back to how it had been before.

She remembered only a few days ago when they'd left, when she'd been so glad to go on the run with him not only because it meant getting outside and a break from the normal routine, but also because she'd felt like it had been so long since they'd spent much together. Of course, they saw each other every day, but when they were in a large group, as they so often were in the close quarters of the prison, it was harder to filter out the noise of the others. She'd joined him on many of his watch shifts, but for the most part even then, he'd seemed more reserved. They'd had plenty of talks at night, on watch or in the cellblock, when the others were asleep and things were quiet, but even so, this had been different. For some reason, the events of the past few days had made him act differently towards her. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she couldn't deny that she liked it.

Back at the prison, it seemed like there was always some sort of crisis to manage. Something always needed to be done immediately for someone, and all of these little emergencies left no time or energy for much else. It was exhausting, both physically and mentally, but that was life now. Yes, it was better and easier and calmer than life on the road had been, but even so, it was still hard. As incredible as it was, these few days, during which their lives had been in danger more than once, actually counted as a _break_. The thought almost made her laugh.

As terrifying as some moments of their unlucky run had been, the slower one-on-one time with Daryl had been worth it, and had left her with an overall positive feeling about their adventure, despite the close calls. The parts of the past few days where they'd had the chance to just sit near each other – some closer than others – flashed through her mind as if they were pictures in a book whose pages were being flipped quickly from one to the next, and she smiled involuntarily. When the quick flashes faded, her mind focused in on a few particular ones. First, when he'd sifted glass out of her hair. Second, when they'd fallen asleep under the blanket together in the hayloft. In those kinds of moments she almost thought she might not be crazy for feeling like there was something between them, after all. Those were the times when it seemed like whatever it was that they had was still hidden just far enough below the surface to be maddeningly visible, but buried deeply enough that they still couldn't quite grasp it. Neither of them was ready to take the leap.

She'd felt a close connection with Daryl almost as long as she'd known him, and it had only grown stronger over time. If she was being honest with herself, she had enjoyed having him all to herself these past few days, though she wouldn't have admitted it to anyone. Returning to the prison meant sharing him with the group again, which made her almost regret the end of this adventure. She shook her head at that last thought, telling herself that she was crazy. That wasn't a rational thought and she knew it. Still, she was in no hurry to see the dark shape of the prison now that she was in the car barreling down the road with Daryl.

He'd been watching her out of the corner of his eye as he drove. She'd been lost in thought almost since they'd pulled onto the road. The past few days had been draining for both of them, and now, between not having eaten since early that morning and the stress of the day spent waiting out the herd, it was understandable if things were taking a toll on either of them. However, he couldn't help but notice that for the most part, she was smiling at her thoughts. Whatever it was that she was caught up in, it didn't seem to be bothering her. He didn't remember ever seeing her lost in _happy_ thoughts before, and it was a nice change.

He was just as aware as she was that when they got back to the prison, they were no longer guaranteed to have each other's undivided attention. He realized for the first time that he hadn't felt the urge to run off into the woods, even after all the time they'd spent together. He'd actually _enjoyed_ the time with her… well, the parts where their lives weren't in danger, anyway. Granted, he'd also spent a good chunk of that day with Glenn, but he'd been so consumed with worry about her, he'd only really noticed the younger man when he'd suggested that they might have to desert their position when it got dark. At that point, he'd really wanted to punch Glenn in the face, but he'd managed not to. No, it seemed strange to him, but he was actually sorry to see this whole fiasco of a run come to an end.

"I can hear the wheels turnin' over there," he told her, breaking the silence about halfway back to the prison.

She turned towards him, taking a second to realize what he'd said. He had been right, she'd been lost in her thoughts. She smiled at him and stretched, realizing how absorbed she'd been.

"There's been a lot going on in the past few days," she commented.

He couldn't help but chuckle. "A few things, yeah," he agreed. He paused, then added" 'M sorry it turned out to be such a disaster your first time out."

She shook her head slowly, opening her mouth like she wanted to say something, then pausing as if she wasn't quite sure of the words to use. It was hard to explain. Then finally, looking sheepish, she asked him, "Is it completely weird that I enjoyed it?" The expression on her face said that she was waiting for him to confirm that it was indeed crazy. "You know, the parts where neither of us were about to be attacked by walkers," she added quickly.

He considered joking with her, telling her it was indeed crazy, but she had such a genuine look on her face, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Besides, he felt the same way, so it wouldn't be right to make fun of her, even in jest.

Instead, he said "Yeah, it's the damndest thing, ain't it?" She looked back at him in surprise, but he was staring straight ahead at the road. "I reckon that means we ain't been spendin' enough time together, if runs start bein' fun," he added jokingly. They both chuckled then, and lapsed back into comfortable silence.

_Hmmm_, she thought, _I didn't see that coming._

It seemed like only a few minutes later that they were looking at the shadowy outlines of the imposing building on the hill that had become their home. They each breathed a quiet sigh of relief, while simultaneously wishing that they would have had just a little more time before they arrived.

Maggie was keeping watch at the outer gate, having volunteered since she would be waiting up for Glenn anyway. As soon as she realized that it was them finally returning, she swung the gate open as quickly as she could. For once, there were no walkers lurking nearby. The two vehicles pulled in side by side and Maggie slammed the outer gate shut behind them, locking it before running to the SUV, which Glenn had climbed out of to greet her. They embraced, tears of relief on Maggie's cheeks after a long delayed return from what should have been a quick rescue. As they sat in the truck, Daryl glanced over at Carol, whose expression was unreadable as she looked up at the prison.

"Hey… Y'alright?" he asked with concern.

She inhaled slowly, nodding and turned to look at him. "Yeah." She smiled, and he couldn't help it when a small smile tugged at his lips in return. "I think I need to eat something though," she continued. "I'm suddenly feeling lightheaded."

"I didn't think to bring food back with me when Glenn 'n I left. Sorry. I was in such a hurry, 'n I never thought it'd be this long 'fore we got back."

"Daryl, don't apologize. I wouldn't have made it back here _at all_ without you."

The squealing of the inner gate being opened cut off their conversation, and they saw that it was Glenn sliding it open. She and Glenn had switched places, and Maggie now drove the SUV forward, stopping on the other side of the inner gate to wait for Glenn while he waited to secure it after them. Suddenly starving and never a patient person to start with, Daryl drove the truck around the waiting SUV and up the road toward the prison as Glenn closed and locked the gate. It had been a long two days and he and Carol both needed to eat and to rest, at least a little, before the next crisis... because there was always another one.

A while later, after they'd eaten what was considered a large meal by their current standards and had told the story of the unlucky run in as much detail as they thought the others needed to know, Daryl had helped Carol to her cell. He ducked out while she got herself changed for bed, and then reappeared in the doorway as she was climbing into the lower bunk. He stood and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, looking slightly uncomfortable, as if he didn't know what to do with himself. She laid down on her side, facing into the cell, and pulled the thin blanket up around her. It was wonderful to be back in her bed, back in the relative safety of the prison… and yet, there was Daryl, watching her from the doorway, which felt so far away. She couldn't help but think of sleeping in the hayloft, so close to him, the previous night. Had it only been twenty four hours ago?

She felt like she understood him pretty well most of the time, and she knew him so well that she could often predict his actions perfectly, but she still wondered what went on in his mind sometimes. They'd just been through a lot together, and he'd surprised her in a lot of ways in the past few days. She wondered if the things that had happened between them out there would bleed through back to their life in the prison, or if things would go back to being exactly how they had been between them. And she wondered, for at least the thousandth time, if the feeling that there was _something_ between them was all in her imagination. She didn't even realize that she'd sighed out loud until he spoke.

He misinterpreted her sigh, thinking it was because of the pain from her injury. "How's the ankle?" he asked, glad to have found something to say.

"Sore," she replied. "I know Hershel's gonna tell me to stay off it for a while. I hope it's not broken. I'll ask him to look at it in the morning. No sense in bothering him this late."

"Ya need to get some rest," he advised, and she nodded in agreement.

"No argument here," she agreed readily, yawning. She paused to think about how long she'd been awake. "I took a little nap in the hayloft today while I was waiting for you to come back, trying to stop myself from thinking too much about how close all those walkers were, and… the fact that I was in a _barn_… but it was those same dreams as always… I think I'm more tired than I was this morning when I woke up." She paused, then just above a whisper, she added, "Good thing I slept well last night."

He looked down, feeling himself blush, and continued to stare at the cement floor for a full minute before responding. "Ya need anything?" he asked, looking back up at her shyly.

She shook her head slowly, knowing he was going to say goodnight to her and retreat to his perch, and she couldn't help but wish that there was some reason for him to stay. Somehow, she always slept so much better when he was nearby. She always had. But with the living situation at the prison, with everyone having their own space, that wasn't something that just happened.

"No, thank you though," she finally replied. She'd tried to think of something she needed, any reason for him not to go, but her mind was blank.

He was still standing there, looking at her. She would have sworn that he looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn't. Or maybe that wasn't what she was seeing, maybe the look on his face was something else. In any case, she couldn't read it.

There was something in_ her_ expression that he couldn't read either, something that he didn't understand. She was smiling calmly at him and yet… she didn't quite look happy. No, it was something else. He couldn't figure out what it was. All he did know was that he wasn't in a hurry to leave, despite the exhaustion he felt from the past two days. He wished there was some reason for him to stay there, but she'd said she didn't need anything else. It was late. They were both tired. So why wasn't he moving?

For a minute, they just stared at each other, smiling tiredly and wishing they understood what exactly the expression on the other's face meant. Perhaps if each of them could have seen their _own_ faces, they would have realized that their expressions matched, and that they were thinking the same things. But sadly it had never been that simple for them.

Finally Daryl forced himself to stand up straight and cleared his throat. "Gonna let you get some sleep," he mumbled.

"You should get some sleep too, you know," she reminded him. She watched as he nodded slowly and started to turn to go. "Daryl," she said before he'd taken a single step, "thank you for everything you did for me. Over the past two days alone, you've achieved hero status." She knew he wouldn't know what to do with such a compliment, and she was right. Of course, she couldn't take compliments either, so she understood the feeling. As usual, she watched as he ducked his head sheepishly, looking back at the floor. "Not that you hadn't already, of course," she added.

"_Stop,_" he mumbled, making a face at her to cover his embarrassment. "Ya need anythin', ya holler, alright? Don't go gettin' up. Ya need to rest that ankle of yours, ya hear?"

"Yes, I hear you loud and clear. Thank you." There was that smile again, the one that could hold onto him like a tractor beam. He felt like he could stand there all night, but he knew that wasn't an option. Not a realistic one, anyway.

As he ducked his head once more to go, he heard her quietly say "Good night, Pookie."

Looking back over his shoulder, he rolled his eyes at her, but smiled despite himself, and mumbled "Night," before escaping from her cell and walking slowly back to his perch.

As she heard his footsteps retreat softly, she let out a sigh. _Baby steps_, she reminded herself as she closed her eyes.


	63. Ritual

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… which is good, since I barely have enough time to update this story, much less to be in charge of all of it!**

**Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay in updating. This week was extra busy, and this chapter didn't seem to want to be written. Or maybe it was just me being reluctant to dig into season 4, knowing what's coming for our favorite pair. Anyway, this is actually only the first part of what I originally wrote as this chapter, but it got long enough that I split it in two… so the next chapter is already almost done, and you won't have to wait so long for the next one. Enjoy!**

**Season 4, Episode 1**

**The Prison, Morning**

It'd been an hour or so since Carol had taken him down to the courtyard to show him the buildup by the fences. It was concerning to see so many of them massing there, but some of the people from the group who didn't usually do fence duty had stepped up to help and Glenn was joking that they'd get it taken care of so fast that they'd send him on a beer run by the end of the day to celebrate their having nothing to do. Carol knew that Daryl and whoever was going with him were heading out for the run soon, and she wasn't disappointed that she wasn't going to be one of them. Not really. Her ankle still wasn't one hundred percent from their unlucky adventure not too long ago, though she was managing to walk without a limp most of the time. Besides that, she knew that while she could handle herself out there if need be, she was needed at the prison.

This run was going to be much bigger than the one that the two of them had been on alone. A good sized group was going this time, and they'd be checking out a warehouse sized store called Big Spot. They wouldn't be going nearly as far as she and Daryl had gone a few weeks before. It _seemed_ like there would be much less risk than the last run, but somehow things were never that simple. There was _always _risk.

No, she wasn't disappointed that she wasn't going. If anything, she was relieved. She had never been an adrenaline junkie. The close calls they'd had out there together would hold her over for a while before she felt the desire to go on another run. Still, it had almost been… _fun_ was the wrong word, but she couldn't quite find the right one. It had been just the two of them, working together, and that had felt good. She didn't _want_ to go on this run… and yet there may have been a small part of her that did.

Of course, she was also nervous about Daryl going out there. No matter how brief his trips outside the fences were, she was always concerned until he returned safely. She couldn't help but worry about him when he found (or _put_) himself in danger. She always had. During that last run that they'd gone on together, however, they'd grown even closer than ever. They were still just friends, but they were less awkward with each other… really, _he_ was less awkward with _her_. She'd long since been comfortable around him. Yes, when she thought back to only a month before and compared him to the man she knew today, there was a noticeable difference. She wasn't sure if anyone else could see it or not, but she could.

She'd been in the outdoor kitchen, checking through their supplies to see what was low and basically keeping it all organized, when she saw Daryl approach. The scene was much like it had been earlier that morning when he'd shown up to breakfast, when Daryl had had to make his way through the crowd of what she teasingly referred to as his "admirers." Of course, she only called them that when she and Daryl were out of earshot of the others. If anyone would have told her when she had first met him at the quarry that Daryl Dixon would end up with what amounted to groupies, she would have laughed at them, but sometimes that seemed like exactly what he had.

There were fewer people around now that breakfast was over, but those who were there greeted Daryl enthusiastically. She watched as he glanced at each of them in turn, acknowledging their greetings. Some may have mistaken his quiet demeanor for aloofness, though he was making more and more effort to be friendly. If any of them had known Daryl from the quarry, of course, they would have understood how much he had changed. She smiled unconsciously, thinking about how far he had come. How far they _both_ had come.

"What're ya smilin' 'bout?" he asked her with pretend suspicion in his voice as he approached her. He stopped and leaned against the raised countertop, looking at her intently.

"Just you and your admirers. _Again_," she replied sweetly, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Pfft," he mumbled. "_Stop_." He glanced back over his shoulder at the others in amusement, then looked back at her.

"Well, I'm ready for a little break," she announced to no one in particular, knowing that he'd come to see her before they left for the run. It was a habit that he'd developed since they'd been at the prison. Not necessarily before he went hunting, but somewhere along the way he'd gotten into the habit of coming to talk to her before he headed out on anything more than a trek into the woods. Sometimes he stopped by before he went off on those outings as well, it just depended on what time of day it was and what else was going on. It was never a deep conversation, mostly just a chat about whatever was going on with the people in the group, just a chance to check in… because you just never knew anymore.

She set down the list she'd been making and came around the counter to where he was standing. Together they started walking slowly through the courtyard, no real destination in mind.

"You wish you were goin' on the run?" he asked as they walked.

She looked up at the clouds in the sky thoughtfully before she answered. "Yes and no…" she replied. "We may have used up all our get out of jail free cards in that one shot. I wasn't exactly a good luck charm." She grinned at him, shaking her head.

"We made it back alive," he countered. "These days, any time you make it back alive, means you were lucky."

"Well it certainly was…" She searched for the right word. "…_exciting_." He chuckled slightly at her word choice.

"Don't think I never thought of a run as _excitin'_ before," he admitted, shaking his head. It was definitely an interesting word to describe putting yourself in danger for the good of the group.

"There were a few too many close calls for my taste," she told him. "Though I did get the chance to work on my phobia of barns, which is probably a good thing." He saw her glance up at him then. The expression on her face was pained for just a fraction of a second before she was smiling sheepishly, her eyes darting towards the ground. He knew that her thoughts had just landed on Sophia, then instantly shifted to the night spent in the hayloft, and he blushed slightly. She didn't see it though, since she was too busy avoiding his gaze herself. They didn't have to mention that night. They were both thinking about it.

They walked a little farther, lost in thought, then suddenly she felt him bump her shoulder with his and she was back in the present moment. She grinned and bumped his shoulder in return, and they walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes. After all of their wandering around the courtyard, they ended up at one of the picnic tables not far from where they'd started. They sat down beside each other, facing the wide grassy yard that lay beyond the fence that surrounded the concrete. Daryl leaned back, bracing his arms against the tabletop and leaning his back against the edge of it. It wasn't long before Carol did the same.

"We should be back before nightfall," he told her. That was always the plan, the hope. Things were much more complicated after dark. They had been on the road long enough to know that they would rather not be out there after dark if it could be avoided. She sighed quietly and nodded, turning to look at him. He was so well equipped to deal with the way the world had changed… and yet, there were no guarantees. She knew that she would worry about him, and the rest of the group as well, this time like she did every time he left. It was a given.

He could see the wheels turning in her head, and knew what she was thinking. They didn't really talk much about it before any of the runs he went on, but they didn't have to. He knew that she would worry, like she always did. It had taken a while for him to get it through his head that she cared enough to worry about him. Despite how long they had known each other, he still wasn't used to that. After all, he hadn't had anyone to worry about him before her.

Without another word, they both sighed and stood up reluctantly, heading towards the cars that were being prepared for the trip. As with so many other times between the two of them, there really wasn't anything that needed to be said. They stopped just out of earshot of the others, who had begun to gather around. It looked as though Bob and Sasha were having some sort of intense discussion. Daryl turned towards Carol, his face serious. They looked at each other for a long minute, exchanging a look that seemed to say something that both of them understood, and which made words between them unnecessary. It wasn't the first time. On the contrary, it seemed like they did it pretty often.

Finally, it was Daryl who broke the silence. "Stay safe," he told her, as had become their custom.

"Nine lives, remember?" she replied, as she always did, smiling at him warmly.

Their ritual completed, Daryl nodded at her, turned and began walking toward the others. Carol stood where she was and watched him walk away. The angel wings and crossbow on his back seemed like a contradiction, and yet it was one that suited him perfectly. When the group finally pulled out of the gates a few minutes later, she went back to the task she'd been in the middle of when he'd come to find her. She would keep herself busy in order to try to keep her mind from going to places that she didn't want it to, as she always did.


	64. Sweet

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… obviously…**

**Season 4, Episode 1**

**The Prison, Night**

It was late, and the group who had gone on the run to Big Spot had been back for a while. She'd met them in the cellblock just after they'd returned and heard all about how things had gone wrong, with walkers crashing through the ceiling, and about how they'd lost Zack. Daryl had told her that he was going to break the news to Beth. She'd been friendly with the boy lately, and he'd been acting like a lovesick puppy around her, Daryl had noticed. Carol had offered to go with him, but he'd declined. He had felt like it was something he needed to do alone. After all, it was his fault that Zack hadn't made it back. At least in _his _head it was.

Carol could tell just from that brief encounter with Daryl that the loss was weighing on him, and after she had helped clean up from dinner and folded the laundry that had dried earlier and Daryl still hadn't appeared, she'd gone in search of him. He was nowhere to be seen in the cellblock or the courtyard, so she went to the next most likely place that was still within the prison grounds. She was almost sure that he'd decided to relieve whoever had been on watch just so he could have the silence and space of the guard tower all to himself. More than anyone else she'd ever known, Daryl needed the chance to get away from other people in order to process anything major. His need to escape was even greater now that so many new people had joined the group from Woodbury.

She climbed the steps and opened the door at the top quietly. He was standing just inside the window, staring out at the darkness on the perimeter. He didn't turn around when the door opened, but she knew that he'd heard its slight squeak. She paused inside the doorway, letting her eyes adjust to the low light inside the tower as what remained of the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the trees in the distance. After standing still for a minute she could see more clearly, and she walked slowly towards him. She stopped beside him, their shoulders almost, but not quite, touching.

He didn't speak right away, and it was too dark to see him very well, but she could somehow feel him relax slightly as she stood beside him. It was a phenomenon she understood all too well, because when she was tense, his mere presence had the same effect on her. They were like a tonic for each other, even if not a single word was exchanged. It had been that way between them since the beginning.

"You alright?" she asked him quietly.

"Pfft," he mumbled. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, you definitely look like someone who's fine," she replied quietly. Her tone was sarcastic but not unkind.

He shook his head slightly as he continued to stare out at the trees in the distance. "I'm just tired of losing people," he said finally, echoing what he'd said to Beth a little while before. She looked down at her hands, then crossed her arms against her chest and sighed.

"Yeah," she agreed softly. What else could she say? They all felt that way. They had lost _far _too many people since the Turn. There was no getting used to it, either. Every time they lost someone else, it felt worse. Never mind that most of them had barely known Zack at all. They might not have felt his loss as deeply as some of the others, but it was just the most recent in the long string of death. Yes, even before the Turn it had been inevitable that they would all die someday. However, it was a lot more stressful having to constantly worry because it now seemed that they were all going to die sooner than later, watching their friends and loved ones picked off one after another and unable to do anything to prevent it.

"It's not your fault, you know." Her words hung in the air with no response, bouncing off the wall he had rebuilt around himself in the space of an afternoon.

They stood in silence for what felt like a long time as the world outside the tower became completely dark and the moon rose in the sky. It was another cloudless night, for which they were grateful. Whoever was on watch on cloudy nights had a distinct disadvantage without the moonlight.

Silence between the two of them wasn't usually a big deal, but this silence spoke volumes to her. She knew that what had happened was eating away at him. The longer they stood there in silence, the more Carol wished that she could do something for him. Over the time that they'd all been together and the group had grown into a family, she'd watched him change from an angry loner into a man who cared deeply about others, even though he didn't want to show it. He was acting quiet and aloof, but he didn't fool her one bit. Whether it was logical or not, he was blaming himself for losing Zack on that run, on "his watch."

It didn't matter that he hadn't been the only one there and that none of the others had been able to save him either. It didn't matter that he had had no control over the fact that the walker had grabbed Zack at the last second and bit into him so quickly, just as the roof had been collapsing. It didn't matter that there had been nothing that any of them could have done to save him. She knew that he was blaming himself, as he always did. Just like he had, and probably still did, for the loss of Sophia.

He didn't know how she could say that it wasn't his fault. _Of course it was his fault_. It seemed obvious to him. Zack had been a good kid, but a kid was exactly what he'd been. And now he was gone. Daryl sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. How would any of them be expected to keep going when this just kept happening? It wasn't safe out there, but they _**had**_ to go out there. Eventually they'd all probably be out there on the road again, too. They couldn't stay at the prison _forever_, and most of them knew it. How would they be able to cope out there with a baby, and with Hershel unable to run, when he couldn't even manage to protect the _able bodied_ in the group?

She leaned towards him, closing the short distance between them so that their shoulders touched, still looking out at the darkness. "There was nothing else you could've done," she said softly. The others had filled her in on the chaos that had ensued during the last minutes before the ceiling had collapsed. He scoffed slightly, unable to accept the comfort that she was trying to give him. He was stubborn that way, she knew. But then again, so was she.

He suddenly stepped away from her, through the doorway out onto the balcony of the tower, walking to the edge and leaning his forearms on the railing. She stood watching him for a long minute before following him slowly. He didn't seem to want to be comforted, even though she knew that what she'd said was the truth. She knew that he needed to hear it, but it seemed that he wasn't _ready_ to hear it yet.

It had been as though all at once he wanted to be away from her… and yet, he didn't want her to leave the tower. He had stepped away from her, through the doorway and outside to the balcony railing, but now he didn't know what he wanted. For her to follow? For her to leave? For her to stay where she was? He knew she wouldn't do that. She might follow him or she might leave completely but he didn't think she'd stand still… so he was surprised when he didn't hear any movement at all. He'd almost decided to turn around, convinced that she'd somehow left without him hearing her, when he heard slow, careful footsteps. He sighed, now feeling guilty, wishing he hadn't stepped away from her in the first place. _Pull yourself together_, he thought angrily to himself.

She was trying to read him. They were usually so good at reading each other it was almost unsettling, except that it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Every once in a while, though, he reacted to her unexpectedly. She hoped that wasn't what was happening here, because the few times she read him wrong were usually when he was angry. Those were the times when he seemed to spit venom in all directions rather than act like the same Daryl she knew so well. It had happened less and less over time, and these days it was very rare for him to be like that. She knew that when it happened, it wasn't because of her, but because of something that he was working through. He had come a long way, but emotions were still hard for him to deal with.

Still, she knew very well that sometimes he just needed space. She considered leaving him there alone, but decided to try once more to get through to him. Very slowly, she followed him out to the balcony and took the spot beside him at the railing, making a point to leave more space between them than before.

He knew that she had purposely stood close to him when she'd first arrived at the tower, and that she had intentionally moved towards him so that their shoulders had touched as they stood as a means of comfort. He also recognized the fact that she now stood so that there were about twelve inches between her shoulder and his because she could read him so well. She wanted to be there, but she didn't want him to feel crowded. He wondered again at how she seemed to know him better than he knew himself. There'd been a time when it would have made him really damn uncomfortable to know that she understood him like that, but he'd long since gotten used to it. Far from being uncomfortable now, these days he even found her ability to read him comforting most of the time, though he would never admit it to anyone. He sighed quietly, dropping his head to look down in front of him for a second before turning to glance at her.

She'd seen the movement out of the corner of her eye when he'd dropped his head, and she continued to watch him without looking directly at him. She thought she saw him glance in her direction, but she was pretending to be looking out at the trees. Daryl was such an enigma. Even now, when she knew him so well, there was still some strategy necessary to work around how he would react to certain situations. She decided that she should let him have the time alone that he'd come out here for. He'd been through a lot today, after all, and that was usually the way he processed things like that. She straightened up, pushing herself back slightly from the railing.

The movement caused him to look back at her, surprised.

"I'm going to –" It was all she got out before Daryl cut her off, mid-sentence.

" 'M sorry. Stay," he said simply.

She blinked with surprise. He'd said eight words to her up until then, two short sentences, in the whole time that she'd been out there with him. Yet even so, in less than three words she could hear a completely different tone in his voice than she'd heard just a few minutes before. This one was calmer, the earlier hint of despair gone, and the reassuring, gravely hint that she was so familiar with had returned. She relaxed slightly, but still felt like she should go.

"If you want to, of course," he added.

"But, are –" she tried again quietly.

"I'm sure," he said, cutting her off again. He couldn't help but smile a little bit that time.

"Show off," he heard her mutter under her breath.

He chuckled ever so slightly, moving over along the railing to where she was standing, and stopped with their shoulders practically but not quite touching. They stood that way for a long time. Eventually they heard the door inside the tower open and footsteps behind them. They both turned at the same time, both over their right shoulders. It must have looked as if they'd planned to synchronize their turn, because Maggie and Glenn, their replacements, laughed at them as they took over watch duty. It made Daryl a little grumpy, since he didn't like feeling like people were laughing at him, even – no, especially – because he and Carol had done something perceived as "cute." As soon as they were out of the tower on their way back to the cellblock, however, he seemed to forget about it.

The night air was cool as they walked back to the main building. About halfway back to the cellblock Carol happened to look up in the sky, and stopped in her tracks, staring up in awe. Daryl got a few steps ahead of her before he turned around to see why she'd stopped. As he walked back to where she stood, he followed her gaze up to the sky. As many times as she'd ever stopped to look up at the night sky, whether before or after the Turn, she didn't remember ever seeing so many stars. It seemed as though a million, maybe a billion, stars shone down on them, and she was momentarily mesmerized. The stars had been much easier to see since electricity had ceased to exist, since there was no other light other than the moon for them to compete with any longer. Still, Carol was sure that she had never seen so many.

"Wow," she whispered, still unable to look away. He shook his head slightly as he watched her, so transfixed by the sky. The world had ended, it was full of ugliness and death, and yet she could still get excited about the damn stars. He only wished that he could as well, and maybe on another day he would have… but not that day.

She didn't know how long she'd been looking up at the stars, but when she looked back down she saw him watching her. She swore the look on his face was a mixture of sadness and awe.

"Do you want to tell me?" she asked quietly, not expecting him to tell her anything that was bothering him. As she expected, he just shook his head, looking away.

She hated to see him like this, and she knew that the events of the day were still too much for him to talk about. She knew that beneath the tough exterior, he cared a lot about the people in the group, and that losing Zack, after so many others, would bother him for a while – despite the fact that it hadn't been his fault. Without taking the time to think about it, she put her hand on his bicep, midway between his shoulder and his elbow, noticing immediately that he didn't flinch.

He felt her hand on his arm and was surprised to notice that he didn't want to move away. On the contrary, the warmth was comforting. She was looking at him uncertainly, with concern and even with a little bit of surprise in her face. That made him smile slightly, and her face reflected the change as well. _What a pair we are_, he thought.

Without taking time to think about what he was saying, he mumbled, "You know we don't make no sense to no one but each other, right?" He was pretty sure it would come across as a completely random statement, but he didn't elaborate anyway.

She just nodded, her smile increasing in wattage. "I was just thinking something a lot like that," she admitted in a whisper.

He shook his head at her, chuckling quietly. _Of course you were,_ he thought.

Suddenly he was feeling better than he had in quite a while, and though he liked standing there with her, it was time for them to get inside. They needed to get some sleep before what would undoubtedly be another hard day. They were _all_ hard days.

"C'mon, we should go inside," he told her reluctantly. If she didn't know better, she'd say the look on his face was almost apologetic. Or maybe it was just her imagination. She realized that her hand was still on his arm, and she removed it slowly. He noticed that the spot on his arm where her hand had been immediately felt cold in the night air.

Carol glanced at the stars once more, smiling slightly yet still looking sad. He didn't have to ask her what she was thinking about, because he knew that look on her face all too well. They turned and walked slowly toward the cellblock. "I know those stars are just planets and suns and all that up there," she began, "but it's somehow comforting to think of them as the ones we've lost, looking down on us."

She'd been so caught up in thoughts of Sophia for the past few minutes that she hadn't realized that this may not have been the day to bring this up with Daryl. Not that there were many days when they didn't think about death, of course, but today it may have been a more sensitive subject for him that most, because of Zack. She cringed slightly at her own selfishness. She clamped a hand over her mouth, looking mortified.

"I'm sorry, Daryl, I wasn't t thinking…" She was desperately trying to think of something to say that would undo what she'd just said.

He looked thoughtful for a second, then glanced up and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, sometimes you just gotta believe what you wanna believe. 'Sides, we ain't got no proof of _what's_ up there, really. All them scientists, they coulda been wrong all that time. They ain't so smart as they thought… if they were, they'd still be around."

She smiled again, looking over at him. _He really can be sweet when he wants to_, she thought_._

"What?" he asked, looking nervous. That look she was giving him was the one that always made him nervous. It was the look she got right before the teasing started.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone how sweet you are," she grinned at him.

"Pfft," he grunted. "I ain't sweet."

"Your secret's safe with me," she whispered, just before she tugged the door to the cellblock open, leaving him standing a few steps behind her, pretending to be annoyed. He shook his head. Anyone else would've gotten an arrow in the ass for calling him sweet, but this was Carol.

He followed her inside, feeling the fog around him having lifted, at least a little. They both headed tiredly for their beds, blissfully unaware of the hell that the following days would bring.


	65. Noise

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead, or there would be a LOT more Caryl…**

**Season 4, Episode 2**

**The Prison, Night**

It had all happened so fast. They'd been looking up at the stars the previous night, and she had felt like just maybe, things would be okay, despite how fucked up the world had turned… and then the next morning there had been walkers in cellblock D, and the reality of the hell on Earth all around them had returned, full force.

_People from their group, who had been fine yesterday, had become walkers overnight and had attacked others inside the prison. _It was a hard thing to comprehend, much less to accept, but it had happened. They would've called all this a nightmare, except that that implied that it was an isolated incident, something that came to an end. This, on the other hand, was just the latest chapter in the string of nightmares that was _life_ now. This wasn't going to end, or at least that was how it felt.

They had lost some of their own, including Ryan, one of the newer arrivals and father to two young girls. Carol had had to put him down herself, with Lizzie and Mika right there. Now those girls had no one, and she had promised Ryan that she would take care of them. _Of course she would_. It was what she always did. Daryl had gone with Rick to secure cellblock D and take care of any other walkers they found there.

After leaving Ryan, Carol had taken the girls to see Beth. The older girl had needed a distraction as much as the younger ones needed comfort. Despite how strong she'd been in front of Daryl, Carol knew that Beth's feelings of sadness over Zack's death were still there, and that she was doing her best to bury them. Beth was strong – stronger than many gave her credit for – but not invincible. Carol thought it might do Beth good to try to comfort the two younger girls, since she'd always been good with the kids. After all, she was practically still one herself. She was young enough for the kids to relate to her, but old enough for the adults to trust her to make good decisions.

Carol walked slowly through the hallways of the prison, numb with shock and exhaustion. Just when it seemed like they couldn't suffer another loss and possibly survive, more loss was thrust upon them and they had no choice but to do just that. There was no alternative besides giving up, which they weren't prepared to do. But the losses had happened _so many_ times already. This was only the latest instance. She was just so… tired. Tired in every way a person could be tired.

The Council would be meeting in the library in a half hour or so – it was hard to judge time anymore – when the members of the council all finished the tasks they were working on in the aftermath of the previous night. She decided that the quiet of the library was exactly what she needed, so after some slow aimless wandering, she made her way there. It was just as she'd hoped it would be: dark, empty and silent.

She entered the room making as little noise as possible, trying her utmost not to disturb the quiet. Something in her desperately needed the dark and the silence just them. Perhaps because it was in such stark contrast to most of the world around her, which was so glaringly harsh, with such terrifying noise. Always, the noise of the walkers. It was such a constant, sometimes she heard it in her head, and almost always in her dreams, though her dreams came less often now. The snarling, the moaning… There were times when she couldn't tune it out. But in this room, which above all others demanded silence – it was, after all, _the library_ – the noises could somehow be kept at bay.

She sat on the edge of her chair rigidly, unable to relax, her hands flat on the table in front of her. Deep breaths were not putting her at ease, and she wondered if anything _could_. She felt so on edge, so wound up with tension, that she wondered how long it would be before she snapped like a rubber band pulled too tight. It _could_ happen. They'd all watched Rick snap after Lori died. It was surprising that the very stress of living hadn't already made more of them lose their minds.

She knew, however, that as much as she might _feel_ like she was on the edge, that she wasn't quite that close. Not really. She'd had years of conditioning when she'd lived with a different kind of monster. Ed. She'd lived in much closer quarters than she now did with the monsters who were always outside the fences, and for so many years. These monsters, while more mindless and more relentless, were more easily kept at bay, as crazy as that thought seemed even in her head. The biggest difference, though, was that she wasn't fighting these monsters alone.

She just needed a moment to breathe, and she would figure out what to do next. She always did.

Not more than a few minutes later, she heard the door at the far end of the room creak open. She was surprised, and disappointed. It was much earlier than she'd expected anyone else to show up for the meeting, and she'd hoped that she would have the room to herself for a while longer before she had to share it with anyone else. Holding in the sigh that she felt at relinquishing her solitude, she looked up and smiled, her disappointment melting away. She was looking at the only person left in the world with whom she _didn't_ mind – not one bit – sharing her quiet time in the library.

Daryl had been looking to escape the noise of the rest of the prison. Everyone down in the cellblocks _needed something_, whether it was a physical need, or just the need for others, to talk, for someone to be there with them. He understood both of these needs, and he'd done his best to help as many people in the group as he could. At that moment, however, he decided that _his_ need for quiet outweighed his desire to help anyone else, at least for a little while. The Council would be meeting soon, and since there was no time to escape to the woods, he'd figured that the quiet of the library was the next best thing.

Pushing the door open slowly, he saw her sitting stiffly at the table, eyes down as if she were contemplating something important. Her fingers were tapping rhythmically on the table, though he doubt that she even realized it. She lifted her eyes to look at him as soon as he pushed the door open, and he noticed that her expression, at first slightly annoyed, changed immediately to a faint smile upon seeing that he was the one who'd come into the room. There was so much reflected in her eyes, the same swirl of emotions that he felt, himself. Hell, they probably all did, or most of them anyway. But mostly she just looked – again, the same way he felt – overwhelmed.

He walked slowly towards the table, their eyes remaining on each other. Neither had changed their expressions, and yet recognition was there, in their eyes. As was so often the case, no words were necessary. When he approached the chair beside her, her eyes went back to her hands on the table. Her fingers stopped tapping suddenly, and the stillness returned.

He picked up the chair next to where she sat, turning it around to sit on it backwards. She glanced over her shoulder at him, smiling faintly because sitting that way, he reminded her of a boy she'd known in fifth grade who had driven their teacher crazy with his refusal to sit on his chair facing forwards. She could easily picture Daryl as that kid at that age.

Her smile, faint as it was, didn't go unnoticed by him. It was almost as though she was laughing at a joke that had remained inside her own head. It didn't matter that he didn't know the joke, just the trace of a smile on her face made him smile faintly without even realizing it as well.

After they'd sat in silence for a few minutes, she realized that the tension she'd felt when she entered the library – the noise in her own head – had disappeared when he'd arrived. She turned to face him, turning her body this time, to look at him again. Her smile was a little bigger now, and she wondered how he always seemed to have that effect on her, without saying a word or even being very close to her.

He tilted his head slightly, watching her. "What?" he asked in a voice just barely above a whisper.

She shook her head slightly. "I don't know how you always do it," she replied quietly, in disbelief. He watched her questioningly, waiting for her to explain what she was talking about. The confusion on his face made her realize that she hadn't explained herself well enough. She chuckled to herself, then raised an eyebrow at him and said, "What, you can't read my mind this time?" He just shook his head and kept watching her. "The noise in my head… you always make it go away."

" 'N how do I do that?" he asked, not sure what he might have done to warrant such a compliment.

She shrugged slightly, smiling, suddenly staring down at her hands in her lap. "You're here. That's all it takes."

He was blown away by the simplicity of what she was saying, and of how true it was. Of course, he'd noticed this phenomenon to be true almost since they'd first met. It just wasn't something they generally talked about.

"_Stop,_" he mumbled, looking down at the ground in front of him. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, slightly embarrassed by the admission, but their eyes crept slowly back up until they were watching each other again. Then, without any other explanation, he said, "You do, too."

"Pfft," she grunted, imitating the noise he always made when she teased him, but smiling shyly. She wondered if she was blushing. He always managed to say the most heartfelt things with few or no words. It was far from the first time, but she doubted she would ever get used to it. She cherished every single one.

He could see that she was slightly embarrassed after he'd turned the compliment around on her, and he was glad. She _loved_ to tease him that way, so it was nice to be able to get her back for once.

The silence in the room returned, covering them both like a warm blanket. She fought the urge she felt to scoot her chair over towards his and lean her head against him. She usually managed to hold herself back when she had such a thought. Though it was what she wanted, she would take this relative proximity to him over spooking him and making him move farther away. Things were always so complicated when it came to Daryl… so complicated, and yet, so achingly simple.

The quiet comfort and the warmth that radiated just from her mere presence reminded him of sitting with her in the hayloft. The space between them now… he didn't have the first idea how to navigate that, as usual. Did he _want_ to? He didn't know… so he remained still.

A few minutes later, the embarrassment that hung in the air on both of their parts having dissipated, she glanced at him again. His slight smile had faded and his gaze was unfocused. He was lost somewhere in thought. "You okay?" she asked gently.

It took a few seconds before he came back from wherever he'd gone in his mind. She could tell that he hadn't heard what she'd said, so she asked again. He nodded. "Gotta be," he replied. It was the truth. What was the other choice? They had to be strong. Their survival depended on it, along with the survival of the group. Luckily for them, they had always been stronger together.

They heard the door at the other end of the room creak, and Glenn and Hershel filed in quietly. They smiled and greeted the others, both of them feeling more at peace than they had when they'd come in. It was time to face the tasks at hand and the reality of the outbreak once again. It was going to be another long day.


	66. Dirt

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… I'm just addicted to it. :)**

**Season 4, Between Episodes 2 and 3**

**The Prison, Day**

Daryl was sitting at one of the picnic tables in the courtyard, staring at his hands. They were muddy, dirt now caked under every one of his fingernails after he'd spent the better part of the last few hours digging graves. He wasn't sure how his hands had ended up so dirty, considering that he'd been wearing gloves… but that was how it always seemed to happen. The dirt was _everywhere_, and being clean was so rare that it had become a novelty.

They had lost so many in the past few days, it was hard to even process. It had all just happened too fast.

He had dug _so many_ graves…

He knew that he wasn't the only one who was feeling their losses, knew that the whole group was reeling from their casualties at the hand of the mystery sickness that had swept through the prison without warning. There had been Patrick, the first one to be sick, the first one to die, who had become a walker and attacked the others in the cellblock. Then there'd been Patrick's victims, the ones who had turned before anyone had even known there was a problem. From there, the effects were exponential… there were so many, it was a blur. In reality, it didn't matter how they died because the result was the same. Whether it was the sickness or a bite, they had all turned just the same.

He fought hard to remind himself that it could have been so much worse if they hadn't stopped the attack when they had. Still, though nothing had been his fault, it was hard for him not to feel that he hadn't failed them all somehow by not preventing it in the first place, not doing something sooner to stop it… This was what Daryl did. He took the protection of the group very seriously, and took any failure as his own, even if he knew that he'd done all he could. He _wanted _to shrug off the burden of guilt, knowing that it wasn't his to bear, but somehow he just couldn't. It hung over him like a lead weight around his neck.

_So many deaths. So many graves._

As if the deaths related to the sickness hadn't been enough, there was still the walkers _outside_ the fences to worry about. Their numbers had built up so quickly, those walkers had almost taken the fence down. Rick had even had to kill the _pigs_ – to _sacrifice_ them, not simply kill them – in order to break up the build-up of walkers along the fence. He and Daryl had lured the walkers away from the fences with the promise of fresh meat, so their team inside the fences could take care of the walkers in smaller groups when they eventually wandered back. They _always_ wandered back, even if it took a while.

Daryl stared at his hands, rubbing his fingers together and trying not to think about any of it. He was too weary to go inside and wash the mud off of his hands, though the thought occurred to him fleetingly. Just then it was all he could do to just sit there are stare at his hands. He no longer felt the sun beating down on him, the sweat trickling everywhere. It was still there, but he had ceased to feel it. He was covered by just as much sweat as he was dirt. It didn't even seem worth trying to get clean. What was the point? After all, he was fine with dirt. It wasn't as though he had somewhere fancy to go that required him to get all dressed up. Those places didn't exist anymore, not that he'd ever been to one when they had. He squinted in the sun, trying to remember when he'd last slept, and for how long. It didn't seem possible that it could have been the previous night, as exhausted as he felt.

He heard the creak of the cellblock door. It sounded far away, much farther away that it logically should have, knowing that it was relatively close by. It didn't matter just then. He didn't even look up.

After what had happened with Patrick and so many people being sick, everyone had been extra vigilant, some to the point of paranoia, about their surroundings. It was understandable though, because they had all been reminded that it only took one mistake and it could all be over. Hell, you could do everything _right_, and it could still all be over.

But at that moment, as exhausted as he was, Daryl was at the opposite extreme. He barely noticed the world around him at all, though he knew at the back of his mind that this was dangerous. He knew that he should be paying more attention to what was happening around him… but whoever was coming or going through that door wasn't a walker. That much he knew. After all, walkers couldn't open doors, only break them down.

Carol approached him quietly, and he didn't see or hear him until she was suddenly standing beside him at the end of the table. She was surprised, because it was completely unlike him to let anyone or anything sneak up on him. It made her even more concerned about him than she had been already. She'd known that he'd been out in the heat digging graves for hours, and when someone had told her that they'd seen him just sitting at the picnic table in the courtyard, directly in the sun, she'd decided that she should check on him. It was what they'd always done for each other, noticing what the other needed when no one else did.

He continued to stare at his dirty fingers, though he knew she was beside him. He almost looked like he was in a daze.

"Daryl," she said calmly, but firmly. She was worried about him out here in the hot sun for so long. She knelt down beside him and leaned closer in an attempt to get his attention. "_Daryl."_

He pulled his gaze away from his fingers in what seemed like slow motion, turning his body slowly towards her. He was looking in her direction, but she didn't feel like he was really seeing her. His eyes were unfocused, and she noticed that his face was quite pink. He'd been in the sun for hours, and was probably suffering from sunburn, heatstroke, or maybe both.

She was carrying a bucket of water and the small towel, and she set them down on the table nearby, perching herself on the edge of the table and clucking her tongue with concern at how flushed he looked.

"I thought you might want to wash up a little, but I think after you wash up, you should go inside and get out of the sun," she told him with concern. He nodded ever so slightly, but she wasn't sure whether he'd actually heard what she'd said. He made no move toward the bucket or the towel.

Sensing that he wasn't going to be able to handle even this small task at the moment, she picked up the towel and dipped it into the water. She brought it up to his forehead slowly, without wringing it out, guessing that she was going to need all the water on him that she could get. As she dabbed slowly at his forehead, the towel came away from his face with large, black stains, though his face barely looked like it had been touched at all. It was as though she'd only managed to remove the outer layer of dirt, and that many more remained underneath.

He didn't see the point of what she was doing, and he was pretty sure she was fighting a losing battle with that towel she kept dabbing gently at his face. Still, he didn't protest. The water on it, though he knew it wasn't actually cold water the way they would have once had access to in the "old world," felt cool against his skin. It was a welcome sensation, and it brought him ever so slowly back to a conscious state. It made me realize what a daze he'd been in as he'd sat there.

When she was satisfied with the progress that she'd made on his face, she got up from her seat on the edge of the table and walked around to the other side of him, bringing the bucket of now dirty looking water along with her. She set the bucket down on the bench beside him, then sat herself so that she straddled the bench, facing him with the bucket in front of her. He'd turned around to watch what she was doing, now alert enough to focus on her but not to do much more than that.

"Turn this way," she said gently. He looked at her for a long minute over his shoulder, his sluggish brain trying to process what she was asking of him, before he realized that she wanted him to mirror her position on the bench. Finally understanding, he moved slowly and somehow managed not to knock over the bucket of water beside him, until he was facing her. He kept his eyes down, squinting in the bright sun.

She shook her head as she looked at him, but decided to get to work so that she could finish and get him inside and out of the sun. Taking one of his hands gently in hers, she held it just above the bucket and submerged the towel as far in the bucket as she could, then held the towel over his hand and let the water run down back into the bucket, squeezing as much as she could before repeating the process. After doing this a few times, the water now substantially darker than it had been a moment before, she took the towel and began to wipe at the dirt that remained. She couldn't get it all, but she could now see more skin than dirt, which was a vast improvement.

Having done what she could for that hand, she let it go and repeated the process with his other hand. The whole thing was reminding her of the day long ago when Shane had sat her down and cleaned the caked on mud from her hands and arms. She'd been in a daze herself then, and it had been uncharacteristically gentle of him. She shook her head at the memories of that day, willing them out of her head and focusing on the present time.

Daryl watched her in silence, or at least she thought he was watching her. She wasn't sure quite how out of it he was, though he'd seemed slightly less dazed since she'd worked on cleaning his face up. Finally finished with both of his hands the best she could, she let his hand rest back on the bench and held the back of her hand gently against his forehead. She frowned in surprise. She'd expected him to be hot from working outside so long, but he felt far hotter than she'd expected. "Daryl," she said, seriously, lowering her hand slowly, "You're burning up. Are you feeling alright?"

He shrugged slightly. "My head fuckin' hurts," he mumbled. He knew he was somewhat out of it, but hadn't thought too much about it. He had noticed that her hand had felt soothingly cool on his forehead, much like the water had a few minutes before.

"I think you've had too much sun," she replied. "Let's go inside and get you some water." He didn't really think that was necessary, but he supposed that he could go along with it since it was Carol that was suggesting it. In his foggy mind, he was half aware of her standing beside him and then tugging on him gently. If it had been anyone else he might have shrugged them off stubbornly, but this was Carol. He once again felt the cool of her skin, this time on his hands as she urged him to stand up. She obviously wouldn't be able to carry him, or even to bear half of his weight, but she did her best to encourage him along toward the cellblock door, slipping her arm around his waist gently.

The air inside wasn't cool, by any stretch of the imagination. On the contrary, it was sticky and stale, but it _was_ better that sitting directly in the sun. Most days the courtyard had the advantage over the interior of the prison because there would be at least a slight breeze, but this didn't happen to be one of those days. She got Daryl settled at one of the tables along the wall in the empty kitchen area, and went to get some water. When she returned a few minutes later, her first thought was to wonder if he'd passed out. His eyes were closed and he was slumped over the table with his head on his arms, which were folded in front of him. He was perfectly still except for the rise and fall of his back as he breathed slowly in and out. She hated to disturb him, but he needed water. Besides, if he was going to sleep, this wasn't the place to do it.

She stood watching him for a minute from a few feet away, at which point he said "I ain't sleepin', if that's what ya think." He still hadn't opened moved. She chuckled, grinning to herself as she stepped forwards toward the table, and thinking that even if he _had _been sleeping, he probably would have heard her footsteps. He was just that good.

"I brought you some water." She was ready to convince him that he needed to drink it, but he just nodded, finally sitting up and opening his eyes groggily. She sat down beside him, setting two water bottles down on the table in front of him. He took the first one, and drank the whole thing in one long, continuous gulp, then turned toward her and leaned his back against the wall beside the table.

"Better?" she asked.

"Mmm-hmmm," he murmured, closing his eyes for a minute and letting his head fall back against the wall as well.

"Well you already look a _little _bit less like a lobster," she told him. She stood up and walked over to him, putting her hand against his forehead once more. The cool of the back of her hand made him smile involuntarily just a little bit. He'd probably shoot her with his crossbow if he knew that she was thinking it, but as he sat there smiling, his eyes closed, she couldn't help but think that he looked so damn… cute.

The thought made her smile as well, as she noted with relief that his skin felt the slightest bit cooler than it had the last time she'd checked. She reluctantly moved her hand away, and a few seconds later he felt something else being placed on his forehead. It felt cool, soft and wet.

"A washcloth," she said, reading his mind. "It'll help cool you off a little. Not as good as ice, but it's the best we've got." A second later, he felt her put another one across the back of his neck.

"Thanks," he mumbled without opening his eyes. She walked back to the bench and sat a few feet away, watching him carefully for a few minutes before standing up quietly and walking towards the kitchen. If she had to guess, she would bet that he probably hadn't taken the time to eat much that day. He was the type to skip meals when there was work to be done. Whether he had fallen asleep against the wall or was just very relaxed, he didn't stir when she got up. She was glad that he was taking advantage of the chance to rest, despite the fact that it would probably be much too short.

He didn't even realize that he'd dozed off until he was suddenly returned to consciousness by the smell of food in front of him. He had no idea how long he'd been out, but when he opened his eyes he guessed that it hadn't been too long because the light coming in through the windows above him didn't seemed to have lost any of its intensity. Carol was sitting nearby, a book in front of her. Seeing him stir, she stood up and walked over to remove the washcloths from his forehead and neck, setting them on the table and sitting down again.

Daryl glanced down at the bowl in front of him, watching the steam make its way up from it. It didn't even matter what was in it, it would be gone in a few seconds.

"Smells good," he said before digging in.

"Thank you. I just had a feeling you might be hungry," she replied with a knowing smile.

"Starvin'," he replied with his mouth full of food. _How does she always know? _he asked himself. But it was a rhetorical question. Carol _always _knew. It was just a given.

He finished two bowls of the food that had been leftover from the group's earlier meal in record time, even for him. Feeling Carol's eyes on him from the side, he pushed the bowl away from him and let out a contented sigh. He turned to face her.

"Feeling better?" she asked, slowly putting the back of her hand up to his forehead again.

"Yeah," he mumbled. It was the truth. He was feeling much more like himself.

She lowered her hand again. "Well, you're not so pink anymore, you _look_ like you feel much better, and your temperature seems to have returned to just plain 'hot,' and not 'feverish,'" she smiled, glad to see him feeling better.

Just then, they heard shouting that sounded like a very angry Tyreese from somewhere not far away, and a moment later, Rick burst through an open doorway nearby.

"Come on! I need your help," Rick called as he jogged through the dining area. He was obviously on his way somewhere important. He hadn't stopped to explain, or even to tell them whether he needed Daryl, Carol or both of them. Daryl was completely perplexed, and it was clear on his face. Carol, on the other hand, knew exactly what they were walking into, but her face remained impassive. She had done what she had done to keep her family safe. She didn't like that she'd had to do it, but there had been no choice. To keep the others safe… well, there was almost nothing that she _wouldn't_ have done. They had lost too many already. If it made her a monster… well then, so be it.

Though Carol knew what was going on, there was no way she was going to breathe a word of it to anyone, not even Daryl. Because of this, she had no choice but to feign ignorance. So at that moment, they did the only thing they _could_ do – the two of them jumped up and ran after Rick.


	67. Monster

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… who has that kind of time, anyway?**

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in posting this, "real life" has gotten a bit out of control and I had to catch up, and I had to update the other (non TWD) FF that I'm still working on. I hope this update was worth the wait, and please leave me a review if you are so inclined! They always make my day.**

**Season 4, Episode 3**

**The Prison, Day**

Tyreese had found the charred bodies of Karen and David, which were still smoking. Rick, Daryl and Carol had quickly caught up with him – which wasn't hard because he was screaming – and after that, everything was a blur.

They'd tried to calm Tyreese down, though his momentary madness was understandable. He had loved Karen, and had just found her burnt body. Both Rick and Daryl had tried to encourage him to settle down, however, this had only enraged Tyreese further. He'd turned on both of them in turn, though Rick had borne the brunt of his anger, and Rick had ended up hitting the other man back repeatedly, even after Tyreese lay on the ground. Any way you looked at it, the situation was a mess.

Daryl was eventually able to pull Rick back, with great effort, away from Tyreese. Rick struggled against his friend, then broke out of Daryl's grasp and pushed his hands off of him. Thankfully, Rick didn't lunge for Tyreese again, but instead just stood there panting, looking around at the others. Carol had been watching it all unfold with her hands over her mouth, unable to stop any of these men who she cared so much about from attacking each other. Tyreese lay on the ground, now sobbing from the pain of both Karen's fate as well as the blows that Rick had landed on him. One of his eyes was already beginning to look swollen and blood was leaking out of numerous cuts on his face.

Rick looked down at his fist, which was now covered in Tyreese's blood, as he stood shaking and trying to catch his breath. It was as though suddenly they were all afraid to move, for fear of provoking more violence. Slowly, everyone began to catch their breath, and Rick was the first to head in the direction of the cellblock. Carol hoped that he'd go see Hershel about his injuries, but she knew that it was unlikely. She promised herself that she'd check on him in a little while.

Standing above Tyreese, she watched him with genuine concern for several minutes. Against Daryl's warning glare, she moved closer and put a hand gently on her friend's arm, whispering his name as he continued to gulp in air in heavy sobs. He'd bruised Rick pretty badly and had pushed Daryl hard til he was up against the wall, but mostly because he was a very strong man who'd been fueled by strong emotions. She knew that he hadn't done it out of malice. Despite her responsibility for the situation, she wasn't afraid that he would hurt her. Besides, she felt as though if he _had_ hurt her just then, she would have deserved it. After all, even though no one knew it, all of this was her doing.

She felt like such a hypocrite for trying to comfort him, knowing that she was the reason he was hurting. At the same time, however, she knew that she'd done what she'd done for _everyone_. She wasn't sorry, and she would have done it again in a heartbeat if that was what it took to keep them all alive. She _wished_ that she hadn't had to do it, but she was certain that she had done what she had done for the good of the whole group. It was only the latest in a long line of things that they wished they didn't have to do, but had done anyway, at least in her mind.

Tyreese just resisted her attempts at comfort, jerking his arm away from her touch repeatedly. In the end, she decided to leave him alone for the time being, since it seemed to be what he wanted. When she finally looked up, she saw Daryl leaning against a doorframe on the other side of the small space, waiting for her. She shook her head sadly as she slowly stood up. He shrugged sympathetically, inclining his head slightly toward the doorway. As much as Tyreese would need Hershel to look at his injuries, right now what he needed most was to calm down. As much as they'd tried, he couldn't be comforted just then, and they understood that all too well. They had all lost people.

The two of them walked back toward the cellblock in silence. The weight of the situation made normal conversation seem inappropriate, and Daryl had never been one for small talk anyway. Even without words between them, he noticed that Carol seemed the slightest bit off somehow. He attributed it to the stress of what they'd just witnessed with Tyreese.

He still couldn't believe that one of their own people had done something like that. Someone in this group that was composed of so many people he considered family had _burned Karen and David's bodies_. Had it been someone from the Woodbury group? And would it have made a difference to him if it were? He didn't know the answer to that question. Would it make it worse if it had been one of the people he cared more about? It was all pretty horrible as it was.

Had the two of them been alive at the time? The thought was almost too much. Surely there would have been screaming if they had been. No one had heard screaming, so they'd probably already been dead… not that that made it much better. He couldn't imagine who could do such a thing. His thoughts continued to tumble over each other, and he realized that his pace had quickened slightly as the sudden need to escape the confines of the building had overtaken him.

"Gonna walk the perimeter for a bit, check the fences," he said gruffly as they reached the common area.

She stopped walking, looking at him as he came to a stop in front of her, and nodded in understanding at his need to get outside. There was a lot to think about. "You okay?" she asked.

If it had been anyone else asking, he probably would have shrugged it off in annoyance and walked away without bothering to respond, but he took the question just as she meant it, as concern for his well-being. " 'M fine," he grumbled, before turning and heading for the door. She watched him go, standing there until the door closed behind him, shaking her head slightly.

After the door clanged shut, she headed for Hershel's cell to see if Rick had ended up there, and to let him know, if he didn't already, that he should expect to have two ill-tempered patients in the next few hours. She hoped that both Rick and Tyreese would cooperate with him… when they eventually cooled down enough.

As she had half expected, Rick was not in Hershel's cell, but she _did_ find Hershel there. She described the encounter between the men briefly, and promised to try to steer both Rick and Tyreese in his direction the next time she saw them. _Why were men so stubborn, anyway? _she wondered.

It was a rare moment when there were no tasks that she was responsible for doing, and the Council would be meeting again in a few hours, so she decided to go back to her cell and rest for a little while. She knew that she wouldn't sleep, but she figured that even lying down would be better than nothing. To say that her nerves were frayed from the events of the day so far was an understatement.

As she climbed the stairs to the second floor of the cellblock, the metal seemed to creak extra loudly. She was suddenly hyper aware of every small noise around her. It was almost as though her already heightened senses were on overdrive, fueled by the anxiety of what she had done that day. Her steps quickened as the need to be in her cell, alone, suddenly became very strong. When she got there, she sat down in the single chair, leaning over so that her elbows rested on her knees, her head in her hands.

She wasn't the same person that she'd been when the world had ended. She was strong now, a survivor, but she wasn't indestructible. She was capable of doing what needed to be done, but she wasn't an unfeeling robot. She had done what she had for a reason. For the group, for her family. She _knew_ this. And yet…

_What have I become? _she asked herself.

_You're a monster, _a voice in her head growled unexpectedly.

_I'm __**not**__, _she countered, surprised. _I couldn't let everyone else die._

_You __**killed **__two people, _the voice reminded her.

_I __**saved **__all the others, _she argued.

_Maybe,_ the voice said. Then there was a pause, before that voice said simply, _I hope it was worth it._

She inhaled sharply, as if she'd been struck, then exhaled slowly to try to calm herself. She took several more slow, deep breaths to try to settle the turmoil raging in her head. _I'm not a monster. I'm not a monster._ She repeated it over and over to herself, as if the repetition could make it true. She felt the familiar prick of tears behind her eyes, but she willed them away. There would be no crying. She was stronger than that. She had done it, but not with malice. She was _not _a monster.

Suddenly the need to be alone that she had felt was replaced by the need _not _to be alone, and to distract herself by doing something useful, something to help the group. It was almost as though she needed to do something as penance for what she had done. She pushed herself quickly to her feet, smoothing out her clothing and squaring her shoulders. _I'm not a monster,_ she repeated to herself once again. It had become her mantra, a focus for her thoughts as she attempted to block out the voice that told her otherwise.

She walked purposefully out of her cell, not having rested whatsoever. She didn't care, because she couldn't be in there for another second. The stairs clanged under her heavy boots, and she headed quickly straight for the cellblock door, grabbing a long piece of metal that lay on the floor by the wall. She'd take out some of her frustrations, be useful to the group, and possibly check on Daryl at the same time.

Down by the outer fences, things were as they always were. Walkers milled around, moaning and shuffling against each other, against the chain link fence. The group on the outside of the fence wasn't too big at the moment, but they all knew that that could change without warning. They'd seen it happen too many times. She raised the sharper end of the metal pole that she'd brought outside with her and walked toward the fences with determination. _These _were the monsters, not her.

Over and over she plunged the end of the pole into the eye sockets and through the skulls of the moaning, undead figures in front of her. Over and over she repeated her new mantra to herself. Yet somehow, it didn't matter… the internal conflict that she felt continued. The voice that told her that she was a monster would not be silenced, no matter how many of the actual monsters she took down. _This changes nothing_, the voice said. _You can "kill" as many of them as you want to. That doesn't change what __**you **__did. It doesn't change the fact that you're a monster, too. You're not so different from them, are you?_

The walker that she was taking down as she had that last thought got an extra firm jab to the eye socket, and was pushed to the ground extra hard as she wrenched the pole back out of its skull. She was so angry. Angry with herself, though she couldn't quite explain why, and angry with the world, for requiring her to do something so horrible in order for them all to survive. She'd done it, but at what cost? How could she live with herself now?

She leaned over, panting slightly, surveying the group of walkers a few feet away from her on the other side of the fence. While there were plenty of bodies now on the ground because of her efforts, when she looked out into the group it didn't seem as though she'd made a dent. _It's never enough,_ she thought sadly.

Then there was that voice again. _That's right, _it said. _You killed two of your own people, and all you accomplished was getting blood on your own hands. It wasn't enough to save the rest of them. No matter what you do, in the end it won't be enough._

Once again, she inhaled sharply, dropping the pole and feeling her knees start to buckle. She managed to remain upright, leaning forward and balancing her hands against her legs, breathing hard. _It's not true,_ she told herself. _We've made it this far. Somehow… somehow we'll manage. _She believed it. She believed it because she _had to_ believe it, because otherwise what was the point?

She stared at the ground as she leaned heavily against her legs, willing her breathing to return to normal. While it might not feel like she'd made much of a difference when she looked through the fence at the group of walkers standing there, she _had_ successfully worked out most of her frustration. Now she just felt drained by the effort of the battle she was fighting with herself.

Sighing heavily, she pushed herself to stand upright, drawing her eyes back up slowly to look along the fence line along the perimeter of the property in front of her. When she did, she saw Daryl walking towards her, looking slightly concerned. He strode purposefully in her direction, and within a few minutes he'd reached the spot where she stood. Nodding at her as he approached, he looked out at the gathering of walkers outside the fence, taking note of the corpses in a heap along the fence.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

"Yeah," she mumbled. "Just venting some frustrations." She glanced at the snarling figures nearby, and she suddenly felt very tired. She looked back at him, determined that she would betray nothing that was going on in her head. At that moment she seriously worried that the mindreading powers that he somehow seemed to use on her so often would tell him everything. He continued to look at her with concern, however, so she knew that he couldn't know what she had done. After all, if he _did_ know what she'd done, there was no way he'd be looking at her that way.

"Ya got walker guts all over ya," he observed. " 'S disgusting." He said it in a serious tone, with a straight face, but she got the feeling that he was teasing her. He continued to look her in the eye intently, standing still, apparently undeterred by her appearance.

"You're just always happy when you see someone who's dirtier than you are," she challenged, equally seriously. This was their normal banter, and even just this little bit of it soothed the anxiety she was feeling, even if it was only ever so slightly. She noticed that he'd smiled the tiniest bit at her comment, and she fought to bite back the smile that was trying to emerge on her face.

"Pfft," he mumbled, and she knew she'd won that round. "Council's gonna be meetin' soon. Ya comin' back up? Or d'ya want me to help ya finish 'em all off?" He tilted his heard toward the crowd of walkers and looked at her questioningly. They could do it if no more came out of the woods as reinforcements, but it would probably take a while and they had that meeting to get to. Still, if she wanted it done, he'd help her do it.

He could tell that something wasn't quite right with her, but he couldn't identify it. Not that there was any shortage of possibilities in the fucked up reality that they faced all day long, every day.

"No, I guess I should probably clean up," she conceded. He nodded a little too eagerly, and she made a face at him, which only made him smirk back in response.

As they walked up the hill together in silence Daryl couldn't shake the same feeling he'd had earlier, that there was something off about her, but once again he couldn't identify it. It wasn't really anything she was doing or not doing, at least as far as he could name, just… a feeling. He dismissed it, telling himself that it was probably nothing. For now he was content just to walk beside her up the hill, preparing himself to face the realities of what would happen now, in the aftermath of Karen and David, and the how to proceed with a killer within their group. For now that was more than enough to think about.


	68. Somehow

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… I'm just filling in what Robert Kirkman "forgot" to add in. Because I'm sure he meant to add all this. :)**

**Season 4, Episode 3**

**The Prison, Day**

The Council had agreed that Daryl and a few others would go on a run to the veterinary college for the medical supplies that they desperately needed. It was their last hope in fighting the mysterious virus that had already killed too many of their people. Fifty miles of unpredictable dangers stood between the prison and the college, which was why they hadn't ventured there before. It would be a dangerous trip, but if they didn't find a way to stop the virus, it seemed like a distinct possibility that it could mean the end for all of them.

He'd be looking for her soon, that much she knew for sure. He'd never actually _said_ that he sought her out on purpose, but somehow, no matter what was going on, he _always_ found the time to find her before he went on a run. Even when she was sure that he would forget, no matter where she happened to be or what she was doing, he always found her.

There never seemed to be any real _reason_ for the times he came looking for her. He never had anything urgent he needed to say, it really appeared that he just wanted to be able to look at her and say a few words before he left. It was sweet, really. She would never have expected Daryl to have such a soft side when she'd first met him, but the longer she knew him, the more of it she saw. She didn't remember when these pre-run conversations had become such a ritual, but by now she couldn't remember the last time he _hadn't_ done it. Every other time, she had found it extremely comforting… but she just couldn't face him today. Not after what she'd done. Her conversation with Tyreese had only made her more sure of it.

Because she knew that he'd be looking for her any time now, knowing that they were leaving as soon as possible, she knew that her time was short. The Council meeting had finished up almost two hours ago, and Daryl had been down prepping for the trip ever since – checking everything there was to check on Zack's car, the one they'd be taking, making sure, among other things, that they had enough gas, both in the car and in extra gas cans… everything he could do to be prepared.

As much as it pained her not to see him before he left, to break their tradition and skip out on their ritual, she just couldn't bear to face him. The voices in her head continued to eat at her, and she couldn't face herself, much less someone she cared about as much as she cared about him. He _believed _in her, believed that she was a good person, when deep down she knew that she was anything but. _She was a monster_. No matter how she tried to deny it, she knew that it was the truth. She didn't deserve to have someone who cared about her the way she knew that he did.

Her plan was to go down to the showers and stay there until she was sure that he was gone. It was the only safe place – if you could consider anywhere a safe place – that she thought she'd have a chance of him not finding her. She didn't know exactly how long she'd have to stay down there, but it didn't matter. She'd gathered up all the things that she usually took with her when she went down to the showers, just to make it look more convincing, and hurried through the halls quietly as if she were trying to fade into the walls. She didn't meet anyone on her way down there, and the shower room was empty when she arrived.

After checking the room thoroughly for both the living and the dead – with walkers, there was no such thing as _too careful_ – she went to the shower stall at the far end of the row, stepped inside and closed the curtain. She set her shower bucket down on the floor beside the side wall that faced the stall beside her, then leaned her back against the opposite wall. With a heavy sigh, she slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, leaning her head forward on her knees. _What in the world am I doing here? _her rational self asked her.

She'd been keeping herself busy for the most part that day, but now that she was here, in the dark and the quiet, the voices in her head seemed to take the absence of noise and motion as permission to spring to life. Suddenly, there they were again, Karen and David in turn, before her eyes, coughing up blood that seemed to be choking the life out of them. She watched the blood run everywhere, blood that carried the infection that seemed to be killing the only people in the world who she had left to care about.

Panic rose inside her, as she once again saw the dilemma that she had faced. These two people – members of her group, but not people that she knew very well – appeared to be the only ones who were infected. If they were gone, then so was the threat to the rest of the group. It was so simple, really… So many others could be _saved_ if only the infection could be contained. So far, no one had recovered from the virus, however, people _had_ died in their sleep and turned into walkers. Yes, Karen and David were still alive, what chance did they really have? _No one else had survived the disease so far_. In other words, it seemed like it would only be a matter of time. She could let them remain alive, able to infect others and then die painfully and turn, putting others in danger… or she could… solve the problem.

She sat in the shower stall and pulled her arms around her legs tightly, her eyes tightly shut and her forehead pressed into her knees. She tried to focus on inhaling and exhaling, nothing more. The thoughts danced angrily in her head, that voice once again echoing the thought that she'd been fighting all day.

_You're a monster._

She shivered despite the oppressive, sticky heat. It had taken everything inside her to hold it together in front of the others, not to show them the turmoil she was feeling, and she felt completely drained. She was a pretty good actress when she needed to be – years of practice in front of Ed had fine-tuned her skills – but she needed to not have to pretend for a while. She would figure out a way through this… somehow… she just needed to not have to pretend so that she could think.

It was a relief to be there alone, knowing that she did not have to act a certain way for anyone else's benefit. It was the closest she could come to the feeling of calm that she got when she was around Daryl. She sighed heavily as she thought about him, and the sigh turned into a sob before it fully escaped her. He was the person she had come to feel more comfortable with than anyone she'd known in her life. He just also happened to be the one person she was hiding from just then. Daryl had principles, and she was fairly sure that once he knew what she had done, he would never be able to forgive her. She just couldn't bear that. She'd done it to save him, him and the rest of the group. It was ironic, now, that the thing she'd done because of her love for her family had made her feel no longer worthy to be among them.

She tried to quell her rising panic, forcing herself to breathe slowly, in and out, telling herself that she would find a way through it all. This wasn't the first time it had been her against the world. She would figure it out.

Somehow.

For right now, she just had to focus on breathing.

…

They had a few minutes before they needed to leave on the run, but only a few. Tyreese had gone to grab his gear, and Bob and Michonne were pretty much ready. They needed to get on the road to the veterinary college for the medical supplies that they needed. Time was of the essence if they wanted to save the ever growing number of people who had fallen to the mysterious virus that had already killed too many of their people. They didn't have time to waste. And yet, there was one quick thing he needed to do.

Somehow, no matter what was going on, he _always_ found her before he went on a run, no matter where she happened to be or what she was doing. He never had any real reason for the times he went looking for her, just the urge to look at her and say a few words before he left. He couldn't explain it, but there'd never really been any need to explain it to anyone. The group had been watching the two of them do this dance for so long, they were used to it, so no one ever asked questions, at least to him, so there was nothing to explain. It had just become a given that they were connected, two halves of a whole. He didn't remember when it had become such a ritual, but by now he couldn't remember the last time he _hadn't_ done it. All he knew was that he felt better knowing that he'd talked to her before he left the prison on a run, so he made sure to do it each time. It just made sense.

As they were both on the Council, she knew that the run was imminent and that he'd be leaving as soon as they were assembled and ready. He jogged through the cellblock, surprised not to find here in any of the normal places. She wasn't working in the outdoor kitchen, not doing laundry, not in her cell, and not in the guard tower. She wasn't along the perimeter fences, not watching Judith, who was in quarantine with Beth, not with any of the children… it had never been this hard to find her before.

He'd done a circuit of all the places he could think of to look for her and knew that he didn't have any more time to look. He _had_ to get on the road, so that they could get there and get back.

Where _was _she?

He re-entered the courtyard, walking slowly toward the cars as he tried to think of any other places he hadn't checked. Bob, Michonne and Tyreese were there, waiting for him, as was Rick. Maggie was in the guard tower and most of the others were in isolation. They needed that medicine, and they needed it _now_.

His eyes swept along the edges of the prison yard once more, and finding nothing, he reluctantly turned his attention back to the group in front of him.

"Y'all seen Carol?" he asked, not addressing anyone in particular.

"Not since maybe an hour or two ago, down at the water pump," Rick replied first.

"I saw her a little while ago, over by the kitchen," Tyreese said next, inclining his head toward the eating area behind them in the distance. Bob and Michonne just shook their heads.

Daryl just nodded at them. There was nothing more to be done about it. He'd have to wait until they got back to find her, no matter how much he didn't like leaving without seeing her. He couldn't think about her right now, though he couldn't help feeling unsettled. He hadn't realized how important their goodbyes had become to him until he wasn't able to go through with it. But it didn't mean anything, he told himself. He didn't believe in bad luck, or any of that shit. She was around there somewhere, busy doing something, and he hadn't found her. It was as simple as that. With any luck, they'd be back quickly and he'd catch up with her then.

He ignored the next thought to cross his mind… the one that said _**If**__ you get back._ After all, there were no guarantees. Maybe that was why he was so distressed over not finding her… but for now, he had to focus. What was it that Beth said Hershel had always told them? _We all got jobs to do_, or something like that. Well right now, his job was to lead his team and find some goddamn medicine.

The four of them climbed into Zack's car. Zack, who had been nothing but a kid, a pretty good kid. Daryl remembered how Zack had tried so many times to guess what Daryl's job had been before the Turn. He'd let the kid keep guessing instead of telling him that he hadn't done shit except follow Merle around. At first he'd done it because he wasn't proud of admitting it, but the longer it went on, the more he noticed that Zack had genuinely liked the challenge. He seemed so convinced that he would figure out the answer, if he only thought hard enough about it and guessed enough times. So Daryl let him keep guessing. It didn't do any harm, and it kept the kid amused.

He revved the engine in the car that was now all that was left of Zack, Rick locked the gate to the courtyard behind them, then jogged down the hill to open the outer gates for them as well. The sun was well overhead, and it was stifling. He pulled his thoughts back once again to the task at hand as he waited for Rick to open the outer gate. As the group drove through, passing a few walkers who had impaled themselves on the spikes set up outside their entrance, he nodded to his friend, who closed the gate quickly behind them. His eyes glanced back quickly once more in the rear view mirror, taking in the outline of the prison. She was in there somewhere. He would see her again. It would all be fine.

And just like that, the prison disappeared behind them through the trees.


	69. Tangled

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… I don't need that kind of pressure anyway.**

**Season 4, Episode 3**

**The Prison, Day**

She knew that Rick was angry with her for going outside the fences to work on the water line, and in theory, she understood why. Even with the distraction that she'd set up, it had been a stupid chance to take: going out there alone, so close to all those walkers. But when it came down to it, she could not just sit by and let things happen around her. She was determined to _make_ things happen. She could've waited til tomorrow to go down and unclog the water line, as Rick had wanted her to… but what if something had happened between today and tomorrow and she wasn't able to do that? What if _no one_ was able to do it the next day? They would run out of water, that's what. They would never survive, especially with so many people now so sick, without water. She couldn't see why Rick refused to acknowledge it, especially since he'd been through the same hardships as the rest of them. It was like she'd told him, "We don't know if we get a tomorrow." She was there, and she was able to do it today, and in her mind, it was as simple as that.

Still, as much as she knew that she had had a reason for doing what she had done, she also understood that it had been a stupid thing to do. There was no denying that. Yes, she wanted to keep her family safe, but she didn't want to die in the process. She sighed in frustration as she stood gazing out past the outer fences, where the walkers had almost gotten the best of her. They were still there, of course, snarling at her and reaching for her like the monsters they were. She shook her head quickly even before the thought consciously entered her head once again… she had a renewed determination that she would not give in to the voice that told her she was a monster. It reminded her too much of Ed's voice, and she would _not_ let him win. _He _had been the monster, not her.

Her brush with death had made her realize how stupid she had been when she had hidden herself down in the showers earlier, so that Daryl couldn't find her. Suddenly, all she wanted was to see him, to talk to him, even if only for a few minutes. For almost as long as she'd known him, he had calmed her nerves by his presence alone. She understood why she'd hidden from him, and she still felt afraid to face him… but at the moment her emotions were all just so mixed up, it was as if an emotional tornado had torn through her heart. Everything was confused and in pieces, and she didn't know where to begin to put it all back together.

Suddenly, all she knew was that she needed to walk. She wasn't like Daryl, she didn't need to go into the woods to clear her head. She's been standing not far inside the inner ring of the perimeter fences for the better part of half an hour now, lost in thought, and when she suddenly started moving, parallel to the perimeter of the property, the walkers didn't immediately react. It didn't take them long, however, before some of them were trailing along the fence, following her scent from the outside. She despised these things, but as far as company goes, at the moment she preferred them to any of the living people inside the prison. Sure, they wanted to eat her, but at least she didn't have to worry about any of _them_ finding out her secret. _That's just sick_, she told herself, but shrugged. _It is what it is_, her inner voice replied.

She hadn't gone far – maybe about a quarter of a mile – when she spotted something white a little bit ahead of her. Her pace quickened, because she was fairly sure that she knew what it was. She dropped to her knees in front of the plant that was growing just at the fence line. It had somehow managed to weave its way in and out of the chain link fence so that it was difficult to see which side of the fence it was actually growing on. It occurred to her fleetingly that there may have been a metaphor in that for herself somehow, but didn't dwell on it any longer, because she had found exactly what she thought she had seen from a distance. There among the small plant that was tangled so impossibly in the fence, was a small Cherokee Rose, a miniature version of the one Daryl had brought her so long ago.

She smiled at the memory of the moment, and yet felt tears prick her eyes at the same time. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly and heavily, as if trying to push all of the bad air, the bad energy, of the past few days out of her body completely. She inhaled again slowly. Superstitions had never been her thing before the turn, but these days, this kind of coincidence felt too meaningful to be completely random.

Yes, Cherokee Roses grew in this part of the country, so in theory they could be anywhere. Except that they rarely saw them, so when they did, it always felt special… like it meant something. She wasn't sure precisely what she was supposed to take away from finding this particular one, but she did know that as she knelt in front of the plant, touching the petals of the flower gently between her fingers, it was the calmest she had felt since… when had it been? With a sad smile, she remembered. It was the calmest she'd felt since the last time that she'd sat and talked to Daryl, before Rick had coming running through and they'd followed him to where Tyreese had been screaming.

She sighed slowly once again, remembering what had come next, shaking her head sadly and closing her eyes. She opened them again a minute later, and plucked the Cherokee Rose from the plant. Standing up reluctantly, she stared at the flower as if it held the answers that she so desperately needed. _It had all become such a mess. _A laugh that was more like a sob escaped her as that thought floated through her mind. _It had __**become **__such a mess? When he had her life __**not **__seemed like such a mess? _It had certainly been a very long time, since long before the Turn.

Letting out a shaky breath, she looked down at the flower in her hand. At the moment it was the next best thing to having Daryl there in front of her. Slowly, she brought it up to her face and inhaled the scent deeply, closing her eyes again. _I'm sorry_, she told the flower silently. Sorry for hiding from him, sorry, for… so many things. She vowed to herself that she wouldn't be such a coward again. She would be stronger, she decided. She wasn't the same weak woman that she'd been before, and she would simply try harder. After all, none of them knew if they would get a tomorrow to fix their mistakes.

…

The nagging feeling had followed him as they drove toward the college. Something wasn't right. Bob, Michonne and Tyreese had been silent in the car for most of the drive so far, and they hadn't run across more than the occasional walker the whole drive up to now… but the nagging feeling continued. He told himself it was just because he was thrown off that he hadn't gotten to see Carol. That had been it at first, when they'd left the prison, but it was as though the feeling had grown and expanded to a general unease. Something wasn't right. He couldn't explain it, even to himself, but he constantly glanced out the various mirrors in turn, just waiting for it to happen. _Something_ was going to happen. There was no way around it, and he wanted to be ready.

And then it had happened so quickly, as it always seemed to. He and Michonne, who was beside him in the front seat, had been talking about the Governor, then they'd heard a voice amongst the static as he fiddled with the radio. He'd been watching the road, but distracted, because _how were they hearing a voice on the radio? Was this real? _He'd looked away from the road for a few seconds when he looked up and had to swerve to avoid a walker that was in the middle of the road. He regained control of the car and brought it to a stop, surprise now having turned to shock and fear. No, it was something more than fear. More along the lines of terror, which was not something that Daryl Dixon felt easily. However, the herd that they were suddenly staring at in the road in front of them may have been the biggest they had ever seen. It was impossible to say for sure, but it appeared that it could have rivaled the one that had invaded and driven them from the Greene Family's farm.

They only sat looking at the herd for a few stunned seconds, but in those seconds time seemed to freeze. His mind was assaulted with a thousand thoughts at the same time, which made him imagine that this was what people referred to when they said their life flashed before their eyes. He saw a few flashes from his childhood – Merle and the scowl that would cross his face just before he called him a dumbass and smacked him in the back of his head, his mother's smiling face, his father's angry one.

But mostly, he saw flashes of his life since the Turn. He saw all the different places the group had been, and so many different people who were no longer with them. _So many good people lost to such an evil world_, he thought with regret. The constant in all of these flashes, of both those who had been lost and those who were still with them, however, was Carol. They had been through so much together, and somehow he saw all of it at once. Carol as she had been after Sophia had disappeared. The way she had looked at him every time he'd come back without finding the girl, vowing to her that he wasn't giving up and that she shouldn't either. There had heartbreak in her eyes, but something else too… gratitude? Hope? Appreciation? Or something else entirely, or maybe all of those things and more?

He didn't know. He didn't remember anyone ever looking at him with _any_ of those emotions in the rest of his life, so he had no way to judge it. All he knew was, the way she looked at him, he had always felt like he was worth something, even before he had believed it himself. He saw more flashes of her. That horrible day outside the barn, which he'd grabbed her as she'd run toward the monster that Sophia had become, and held on tight as Rick had put a bullet in her skull. But there were other flashes as well, of the days since then when she'd found reasons to smile. He had tried his best to help her find things to smile about.

All of this and more went through his mind within a split second as he stared out at the sea of walkers, and he knew that he had to do something. Maybe they weren't meant to make it out of this, but they sure as hell weren't going down without a fight. The walkers at the front of the pack were now nearly surrounding the car, and he yelled to the others to "Grab something!" as he put the car in reverse and stepped hard on the gas. They'd made it this far, after all, and there was nothing that was going to make him give up, even if it did appear to be five hundred or more against four. Those walkers didn't know what they were in for.

After all, he reminded himself, he'd promised himself that he'd see her when he got back.


	70. Deception

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… it owns me!**

**Author's Note: And now, for a little change of pace, we see a little bit of Rick with Carol in this chapter… I'm not sure exactly when I'll get to post the next update, but probably not quite as soon as usual, because from this Thursday til next Monday I'll be in Senoia (!) with two friends to see all the TWD sights. So I may have another chapter by the end of NEXT week… we'll see. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy THIS chapter. :)**

**Season 4, Between Episodes 3 and 4**

**The Prison, Day**

As she walked away from Rick, she had to concentrate on keeping herself from shaking and to keep her feet moving forward, away from his view. It hadn't taken him very long at all to work out that it had been her. She hadn't bothered to deny what she'd done when he'd asked her. It wouldn't have done any good, after all. Rick had investigated crimes for a living before the Turn, and even without sophisticated equipment, he had been able to figure it out pretty quickly.

No, she didn't deny it. She had done what she had done for a reason – to save them all. She wasn't exactly proud of it, but she would've done it again if that was what it took to keep them all safe. Would the rest of them understand? Maybe… maybe not. More than anything else, she feared what the others would think of her. What _Daryl_ would think of her. But they were all _alive_, and that was more important that what they thought of her. They could hate her if they must, but she couldn't have lived with herself if she'd done nothing and then they'd died because of it.

Of course, her actions _hadn't_ stopped the virus from spreading, so they weren't alive because of her, but there'd been no way to know at the time what the outcome of her actions would be. She hated the thought that she'd done such a horrible thing for nothing, but... the voice in her head that seemed to so love to torment her seemed to go out of its way to say just that, over and over. She began to wonder if this was what it was like to go crazy.

She made it just around the corner before she leaned against the wall and inhaled a few shaky breaths before forcing herself to continue on to the cellblock. _I can do this_, she repeated over and over, trying to drown out the other voices in her head.

Rick's mind was reeling as he stared after her, watching her walk away after their brief conversation in the courtyard. He'd first confronted her about going outside the gates alone to unclog the water line, told her it had been a stupid thing to do. She'd agreed with that. When he'd asked, she'd admitted that she'd do anything for the group. Then he'd asked her straight out whether she had killed Karen and David, and all she'd had to say was "yes." No explanation, no pleading for understanding, no apparent regret, not even a pained look on her face. Just "yes," as if he'd asked her if she liked scrambled eggs, or something equally trivial. That was the part that worried him… that the gravity of what she'd done didn't seem to phase her. She admitted that she'd killed two people in their group, and it had been as though she was answering the most mundane question, as if in her mind it meant _nothing_ that she had killed them.

Rick, on the other hand, struggled to hide his shock. He'd been horrified by the revelation that Carol – who was like a mother and protector to everyone in the group– _Carol_, of all people, could have done something so… cold. So seemingly heartless. Yes, he knew that Karen and David had been in bad shape, that they'd been suffering, but… it was beyond his comprehension that this was something she was capable of. This was different from killing walkers. They all did that, but only because there was no choice. Carol had had a _choice_.

His entire view of her was now turned upside down. If she could kill two of their own in cold blood, then **what **_**else**_** was she capable of**? The thought chilled him to the bone. He had entrusted her with so much – with caring for all of the _children_ in the group – with _his _children. He could simply not reconcile the woman he had known since he'd arrived at the quarry, no matter how much she had grown and changed, no matter how strong she had become, with the woman who could have done something like this.

Maybe she had changed into a monster before his eyes, and he just hadn't seen it. _Had she?_ Maybe he hadn't seen it because he didn't want to see it… Or because he hadn't expected it. How could you possibly _ever_ expect something like that from someone like… _Carol_?

He shook his head, trying to shake off the confusion he felt, and headed for the perimeter fences, walking the full circle several times. It wasn't completely unusual to see Rick doing this. It had become his habit to check the fences for weaknesses frequently. He saw it as part of his responsibility, even after he'd stepped down as the group's leader. The others would notice him out there when he had something on his mind. He'd been out there a lot when Lori's ghost had been appearing to him just after her death, but even now that his mind seemed to have stabilized again, seeing Rick by the outer fences wasn't necessarily a sign of trouble. It was just his way of sorting through his thoughts, just as Daryl's was going into the woods.

It was as he completed his second lap around the perimeter that the plan formed in his head. He didn't like it, but it seemed like his only option. After all, he couldn't just continue on as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't done what she had done to two of their own. Ironically, the feelings and logic with which he made his decision very much resembled the process that had led Carol to ultimately put Karen and David out of their misery. For her, like for him, it had seemed at the time to be the only way to save the group, no matter how much either of them hated what they had to do to accomplish this goal. Rick just wasn't able to see the irony of the situation.

It took about twenty minutes of looking before he found her scrubbing laundry in a plastic tub in a small patch of shade in the courtyard. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought that she was hiding. The way she had positioned herself made it seem that she was trying to make herself as small as possible – and maybe she was.

She certainly felt like even more like a monster than she already had after their earlier conversation. She'd taken the laundry outside to have something to do with her hands, to keep her busy and her mind at least partially occupied, but she really didn't want to be around people at the moment. She didn't feel worthy of their company, no matter how feverishly she fought the voice in her head that reminded her just what a monster she was.

When he found her, she was taking out her frustration by rubbing furiously at a spot on a khaki colored cloth with a small scrub brush, focusing so intently on it that she didn't hear him approach. He watched her for a moment, then as she paused to wipe the sweat off of her forehead with her arm, he cleared his throat and shifted nervously from one foot to the other. What he was doing felt like deception of the highest magnitude, and he supposed that it _was._ But the ends justified the means… _didn't they?_

He fought back his first response to that question, which was that his former self, the one from before the Turn, the one who'd held so many ideas about right and wrong as if they were black and white – he had actually _believed_ that it was that simple! – would have had some serious issues with what he was going to do. He silenced that voice quickly. _We don't get the luxury of being those people anymore_, he told himself. _These days it's just a matter of making the choice that's the least horrible of the options presented._

She looked up at him, her face blank, just as it had been when she'd confirmed that she'd killed them. The only other thing in her expression was an unspoken question. _What now? _she seemed to be asking. He tried to read past the question in her expression, to find something, _anything_, that would tell him whether this was actually the right decision or not… but there was nothing there that he could see. No confusion, no torment, no sadness, no light, no regret… That was the biggest one. She didn't seem to regret what she'd done whatsoever. He was taken aback all over again by the blank look on her face. This lack of emotion helped reassure him that he was doing the right thing.

He looked at the ground between them, unable to meet her eyes. It may have been the right decision, but it certainly wasn't an easy one to carry out. She couldn't imagine what he was going to say, except possibly to ask her to explain her actions. She was surprised that he hadn't done so before.

Instead, without looking up at her, he spoke slowly, trying not to let his voice betray anything. "We're low on food. We lost everything in cellblock D, and we need to restock as soon as possible. We can't wait til Daryl's team gets back with the meds, however long that is. I was thinking that you and I could go on a run."

Carol raised her eyebrows at him, not yet saying anything. She couldn't remember the last time Rick had gone on a run. It must be serious if he was putting himself back out there… but she knew that what he was saying was true. They _were_ dangerously low on food, and there weren't many others who would've been able to go. Almost no one else that she could think of, actually.

She nodded at him, still feeling wary of her voice after their earlier conversation. She knew that she ran the risk of him thinking that she was heartless, but surely he knew her well enough to know that her motives had been purely out of the desire to help the group survive. _Surely_ he could see it, even if she couldn't put it into words. He had to know her at least that well by now.

Seeing that she didn't seem to have anything to say, he added, "We'll leave first thing tomorrow morning." She nodded again, this time adding a quiet "Okay," for good measure. He looked at her intensely, and she suddenly felt like his eyes were boring into her, trying to see something specific, some piece of information that he wanted. It was a strange feeling, and slightly uncomfortable. She didn't like it, but she didn't look away. To do so would have been to make herself look weak, and that was something she wasn't. Not anymore. So she held his gaze, returning his stare for almost a full minute before he nodded, then turned and retreated into the cellblock.

She watched him go, wondering exactly what it was that was going on in his head, but not having the strength to ask him. There was still too much going on in her own head to figure out anyone else. She had pushed her emotions aside for now and she knew that it made her look like she didn't care, but she couldn't let herself feel any of it. Not right now. The truth was, she cared _too much_, and pushing it all aside was the coping mechanism she'd developed long ago, out of necessity, living with Ed. For her, this was the only way to get through a trauma – without having to feel every hurt and emotion. That would have been too much to bear.

Surely he just needed time to come to terms with it. _Surely_, she thought, _he would come to understand_.


	71. Nothing

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… I'm just a member of a huge herd of TWD fans!**

**Author's Note: SO sorry for the delay in getting this chapter written. The trip to Senoia was awesome beyond anything I could have hoped for. (I wrote an article about the trip for a TWD fan site that I started writing for recently, so if you're interested, you can go to undeadwalking dot com/2015/07/02/ultimate-walking-dead-fan-vacation – sorry, you have to replace the "dot" with a "." and remove the spaces around it because FF doesn't let me post it the correct way.) Then, as soon as I got home, I was slammed with work - far more so than usual. But I'm finally here with an update! I hope you enjoy it. Don't be shy, leave a review!**

**Season 4, Episode 4 and a little bit of Season 5, Episode 6 (It's not a time jump, just a jump to the flashback to the same time – confused? :) Sorry! I think it will make sense when you read it)**

**Abandoned Gas Station En Route to the Veterinary College, Day**

They'd been checking the abandoned gas station for anything useful when the walkers had somehow fallen through the thick vines that covered the walls, lunging at them. There had only been a few, but those few walkers had had the element of surprise on their side. Still, the four of them had taken care of the threat within a few minutes. It had gone pretty smoothly, except for the one that Tyreese had been grappling with. It turned out that _he'd_ actually been the one holding on to the _walker_, not the other way around_._

"Why the hell didn't you let go?" Michonne demanded.

Tyreese just stared ahead of him as if he hadn't heard her question. He was clearly still in shock over Karen's death. The haunted look on their friend's face was painfully familiar to Daryl, and it made him cringe slightly. Though it already seemed like ages ago, in reality the discovery of Karen and David's charred remains had only been… how long ago _had_ it been? A day ago? Two days? It only _felt _like weeks. Tyreese's pain was still fresh, and there was no doubt that it was clouding his judgement. It was no wonder his friend was barely able to function. Tyreese was a person who felt everything deeply, and who wore all of it on his face for the world to see. He was the embodiment of the expression "wearing your heart on your sleeve."

As he watched Tyreese carefully, knowing that it was unlikely that he would answer Michonne, or that he had even heard her question, Daryl was reminded of Carol. He felt a twinge of…_ what was it? _It still unsettled him that he hadn't found her before they had left the prison, as silly as he told himself it was to even think about that. While they had all lost so many people along the way and had all known immeasurable grief, the look in Tyreese's eyes reminded him first of the pain he had seen in Carol. It didn't surprise him that he thought of her first. He _always_ thought of her first.

Daryl flashed back momentarily to Carol in the aftermath of Sophia's disappearance, back when they had still been camped at the quarry. He remembered how every time he had returned from searching for the girl, emerging from the woods along the interstate without her, she'd been perched on the guard rail, staring into the trees, or at nothing at all. The look on her face every time he came back empty handed had been more and more desperate. He remembered how she'd remained sitting on or in front of the rail even when he wasn't out in the woods looking for her daughter. She had just stared blankly ahead, as if she believed that by staring hard enough she could _will_ Sophia to walk through those trees and back to her. At least then, he thought bitterly, she'd had hope.

What had been _worse_ than watching Carol staring endlessly out at the trees, of course, had been watching her lose hope that Sophia would be found at all. They'd been camped at The Greenes' farm by then. The longer the search went on, the more obvious it became that she had given up – _on her own daughter._ He himself had held out hope far longer than she had, and _he'd_ barely known the girl whatsoever.

He shook his head unconsciously, disgusted with himself for the way he'd reacted to her despair – with anger. Back then, it had been the only emotion he'd known how to express, not having been raised to show any other emotions. He hadn't been able to understand how Carol could give up, even after she'd tried to explain it to him. She'd said that it just hurt too much.

Again, just when he had thought that nothing could be worse than seeing Carol lose hope, of course, reality had come crashing down on her. Sadly, reality had been even worse. He remembered the moment when she had run forward towards her daughter, no longer alive, stumbling out of the barn as an undead monster. In that second, he'd had the quick reflexes to grab onto her, and he was easily strong enough to hold her back as she'd struggled against him. He hadn't been able to save Sophia, but at least he'd prevented Carol from meeting the same fate as her daughter.

While his pain hadn't begun to compare to the complete despair that she had experienced back then, he had believed that that he had failed her on his self-appointed quest. He hadn't found Sophia in time, and now, because of him, Carol's grief would be never ending. Even now, after all this time, he had difficulty _not_ feeling responsible, even though Carol, despite her grief, had made it clear that he was anything but at fault.

_And yet_, he thought, _somehow, amazingly, she seemed to have come through the other side, stronger because of what she had been through. They both had._ Daryl wondered if Tyreese would be so lucky. To him, the man didn't seem as strong as Carol had proven to be. Then again, Carol herself had seemed anything but strong when he'd first encountered her. If Carol could surprise them all as she had, then anything was possible.

All these thoughts had passed through Daryl's mind in a few seconds. He blinked the memories away, returning his attention to the grieving man in front of him. He looked at Michonne, who glanced from Tyreese back to him in frustration. Grappling with the walker on purpose had not be the smartest move that Tyreese could have made, but they couldn't exactly begrudge the man his poor judgement. Daryl shook his head silently at Michonne, and she walked a few steps away to where Bob was standing, also catching his breath from their encounter with the walkers.

"Y'alright man?" Daryl asked Tyreese quietly, wanting to catch him before his thoughts spiraled away from him, if they hadn't already. Tyreese turned his head slowly toward Daryl, focusing his eyes on his friend for the first time since the walker had fallen on top of him. Daryl was pretty sure that Tyreese really didn't know what he'd been trying to accomplish, other than that he'd tried to take out his aggression on the walker instead of merely piercing its skull to immobilize it. He was still _so angry_.

Tyreese looked at him with a dark, unwavering stare. Daryl was pretty sure that Tyreese could see him, but at the same time Daryl got the feeling that his friend was really not quite there with him, as though in his mind, Tyreese was somewhere else entirely. Without saying a word, he walked past Daryl, towards the trees on the other side of the road. Michonne and Bob looked up in confusion from a few feet away, glancing at Daryl, who swore under his breath. All of them knew better than to yell after him, but they couldn't just let him walk away, either.

"I'll go," Michonne said quietly, already striding in his direction. "You two check inside. We still need a car battery, and we need to get back on the road. Can't afford to waste time we don't have." With that, she turned and stalked soundlessly after Tyreese, as Daryl and Bob walked silently toward the gas station building.

…

**Abandoned Housing Development, Day**

Carol heard the words that were coming out of Rick's mouth, but her brain refused to process them. There was no way this was happening. It simply couldn't be.

Yes, things had been strained and uncomfortable and awkward since she had admitted to him that she'd killed Karen and David. That wasn't much of a surprise. She still had trouble coming to terms with what she'd done, and _she_ was the one who'd _done_ it! But she'd _had _to do something. She couldn't just sit around and watch everyone she loved get sick and die!

She hadn't expected what she had done to be an easy thing for Rick to understand. She would have understood both shock and even anger from him, but things were not going at all the way she'd expected. Not that she'd really known what to expect. Whatever it was, it wasn't… _this. _One thing that she had _not _expected was for him to turn on her. It was as though all of the history between them was just… gone. Suddenly, they were strangers. But after everything they'd been through together, how could that be?

Generally, the longer they'd stumbled through this crazy walker-filled world, the more it seemed to Carol that it was better not to have to feel every tragedy that came and went… because they were many, and they were frequent, and they were painful. She'd learned to compartmentalize her emotions, to effectively turn them off in certain situations, when she'd been with Ed, and that ability was serving her well once again. There was simply too much pain, and to give in to it would have been to accept defeat. She was too strong for that.

Of course, every time she thought she had the valve that regulated her emotions sealed shut for good, along came something that tested her resolve. More and more, she managed to keep her emotions from flooding out again, but occasionally she couldn't. The fact that she'd become so seemingly detached from herself and her emotions so much of the time scared her, but it was the only way she could cope.

This was where she now found herself. While on the surface she seemed to be tough as nails, she could feel everything inside of her crumbling. How could she not? All of the defenses she had built up had been compromised. She'd lost the struggle she'd been waging on her own since she had killed Karen and David to save the rest of them. _You're a monster, after all._ The voice that wanted to protest this fact, to argue that it wasn't true, was now too weak to say anything. Things were so bad that ever her inner voice felt completely defeated.

All she could think of, with tears leaking down her cheeks, as she talked to Rick was that it wasn't happening. It simply couldn't be happening.

"_**You're not that woman who was too scared to be alone, not anymore. You're gonna start over, find others, people who don't know, and you're gonna survive out here. You will."**_

Her brain received Rick's words as if she was underwater. She understood each word individually perfectly well, but their meaning together entered her brain in a slow and distorted manner. Slowly, it sank into her brain. Rick was leaving her there, in that lonely housing development, by herself for what she had done.

She had been banished.

She endured the rest of the conversation with Rick, trying numbly to appeal to him to reconsider leaving her out there, but not begging him to take her back. She was too strong for that. Besides, she had done what she had done, and if Rick couldn't accept it then really, there was nothing she could do about it.

"I should've given it away a long time ago." She handed her watch to Rick, the one that Ed had given her on their first anniversary. Rick had given his watch to Sam, who hadn't made it back and had likely been killed by the walkers roaming the neighborhood, so she knew that he no longer had one. It was more than that, however. This was the very last piece of her old life – of _any _of her old lives, because by now she felt like she'd lived many of them – that had remained.

She had no idea why she still had it, really. She'd been so happy to finally free herself of Ed and everything that he had stood for in her life, she didn't know why she'd kept the watch. Maybe to help herself remember what she would never again tolerate? It didn't matter now. The last tie to herself as that person was gone. Who was she now? At this moment, she had no idea, no identity. She just _was_.

Rounding the cul de sac in the station wagon, she braced herself to drive by Rick one final time as she left him standing on the street by the SUV. He would go back to the prison and he would tell them whatever story he wanted to tell them. He would go back to the others, to their family, to the only people she had left in the world, and she would not. She would go out into the world alone. She refused to look at him as she drove by him standing in the road beside the SUV. She just couldn't do it.

Once upon a time, when she'd been with Ed, she had stayed long after she should have left him because she was afraid to be alone. She'd just told Rick that earlier that same day. She was not that woman anymore, that much was obvious. She hadn't been that woman for a long time now.

While she may not have been _afraid_ of being alone any longer, the thought that she would never again see any of the people she had come to call her family again threatened to tear her apart from the inside. _Keep going_, she instructed herself. _Don't think about it, about them. The only thing you can do is to keep going. _She knew even as she thought it, however, that she was lying to herself. She wasn't going to be able to outrun this problem. Would she survive without them? It was a question she couldn't answer, of course. There were no certainties in life. There never had been, even before the Turn, and there were even fewer now. That was the _only_ thing that was certain.

Did she _want_ to survive without them? That was a different question, yet another one that she couldn't answer. She hadn't been thinking about her own survival when she'd tried to run to Sophia, or more accurately the monster who had once _been_ Sophia, that day outside of the barn. Was she glad that she had been stopped before she'd made it to her daughter, that she had gone through her grief over losing her baby and come out on the other side? She'd thought that she was. She'd thought that she'd survived for a reason. But now, she wasn't so sure. Had it all been for nothing?

She knew that she was a survivor. _But do I have the __**will**__ to keep doing this?_ she asked herself as she drove aimlessly. She'd proven a thousand times over by now that she _could_ survive. But if she was going to end up alone, what was the point? What was the point of surviving just to be there alone? She held herself together somehow, kept her face impassive even though there was no one else there to see whether or not she broke down.

_You are strong_, the voice that had been pushed to the back corner of her mind reminded her.

_You are a __**monster**__,_ the stronger voice corrected her. She could feel the tears pricking behind her eyes now, knew that she couldn't hold them back much longer. Suddenly, she just felt so tired.

She had lost everything at least once already, back when she had been far weaker than she was now. She hadn't thought it was possible to come back from that, but she had. She had learned to keep herself safe in this new world, which, looking back at how far she had come, almost seemed like a miracle. That miracle, of course, was in large part thanks to Daryl.

_Daryl_.

Daryl, who had taught her _how _to be a survivor back when she'd been a victim, who had believed in her when it felt like no one else did, and who had supported her when no one else had known what to say to her. Daryl, whose mere presence alone, even before he'd done any of those other things for her, had always given her a sense of peace. It didn't matter what they really were to each other, which had never been articulated. It was as though he saw her, _really_ saw her, when no one else did. That was all that had mattered.

Just saying his name to herself now cut through her mind like a knife, and suddenly she couldn't drive any farther. Along with everything and everyone, she had lost him as well, and _that_ was finally just too much for her to bear. Tears were falling down her cheeks before she even realized what was happening, coming faster each second.

She pulled the car to a stop and turned off the engine. Her head fell against the steering wheel, and she was no longer able to hold back the tidal wave of emotion that had been building up inside of her. No matter what Rick seemed to think of her, she wasn't made of stone, she wasn't an unfeeling monster with no remorse. On the contrary, she was now feeling all of it, all at once. Every loss and every emotion that she had blocked herself off from feeling for so long now, it all crashed down on her at the same time.

Inside, she felt as though every organ in her body had just turned themselves inside out. It was all that she could do not to be physically sick, and she had to grip the steering wheel in front of her, squeezing it until her knuckles went white. She let her head rest on the steering wheel, careful not to press on the horn and attract walkers. She found herself gasping as though the air had been pushed from her lungs. In some sort of metaphorical way, it had been. It was simply too much, and now, as the emotions worked their way out of her, she found herself sobbing for everything that she had now lost. She had thought that she had lost everything after Sophia had fallen to Rick's bullet, but how wrong she had been. _Now_ she really had lost everything.

Maybe she _was_ a monster. Maybe she deserved this banishment, this pain. Maybe Rick had been right after all. Maybe when the others all found out, they would have sent her away anyway. Maybe Rick _was_ doing her a favor. After all, she'd already been unable to face Daryl before he'd left on his run for exactly this reason. Apparently it wasn't just the nasty voice in her head who thought that about her, but Rick as well. Maybe Daryl would see her as a monster, too – she was fairly certain that he would, because how could he not? That was the one thought that she just couldn't handle.

Daryl's face appeared in front of her eyes, but with a look of horror at what she'd done. She tried to push the thought away, but the cold and nasty voice in her head that had taken over was the same one who'd been saying it all along, and now that voice refused to be silenced any longer._ Of course he'd see the monster that you are, _said the voice_. __**Just face it, you're a monster**__. Why else would this be happening to you? They would all see it. Rick is doing you a favor._

She cried bitterly for the first time in a long time, for herself, for the ones they had lost, for the fact that the world was the way it was, for all of it. She had thought that her heart had broken long ago, when Sophia had been lost, and yet, she swore that she could feel it breaking all over again, as the pain in her chest expanded so quickly and so furiously that she swore her chest would burst open from the pressure.

A walker lumbered along then, stopping to press itself against the front passenger side window, moaning and flailing against the glass at the fresh meal it smelled within the car.

"Go away!" she shrieked hysterically at the walker, despite the knowledge that it wouldn't. It was just something at which to direct her bottled up emotions, but it wasn't enough. She started the car, though she knew that driving away wouldn't help her escape the fact that she was now alone in the world. It would, however, get her away from the walker. At that moment, that was the best she could do. The walker was one thing too many to deal with. She sped away, leaving the walker staggering in the road in her wake as she swiped at her tears in vain, only to have them replaced by new ones.

She had no destination, no safe house to head for, nothing but what was packed in the car. Worse still, she had no one. She was a survivor, yes. Sure, it might be possible for her to stay alive on her own.

On her own, however, what was the point?


	72. Betrayed

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… if I did, it would be on before October (wait, maybe that's if I owned AMC… I'm not really clear over whose decision that is)! :)**

**Author's Note: As you have probably noticed by now, most of the time I write entirely new scenes that fit between the existing scenes from the show. However, this episode moved very quickly and there were almost no time gaps at all that would give me space to explore the main thing that I wanted to cover in this chapter – Daryl's reaction to finding out that Rick had banished Carol. While rewatching the episode, I realized I would have to be a little bit creative about weaving the existing scenes into my own material, so I hope I've done it justice. Thanks for reading and a special thank you to the **_**wonderful**_** people who keep leaving me reviews, chapter after chapter! Those little notes make my day!**

**Season 4, Episodes 5 and 8 (episodes 6 and 7 were of the Governor amassing his new "team," and were therefore not my focus) **

**The Courtyard Outside the Prison, Morning**

It had been a long night. Daryl and the rest of the group who'd gone on the run for medicine had finally gotten back late the night before, and they wasted no time in getting the drugs to the people who needed them. Within hours they saw a difference in their patients, and it seemed that the worst just might be over. Only time would tell.

The next morning, Daryl and Tyreese exited a pick-up truck in the courtyard and saw Hershel approaching them. The older man walked over to tell them that Glenn had made it through the night and that he was now breathing on his own. This welcome news made Daryl realize that he hadn't seen or heard anything about Carol since they'd been back. Just as Hershel had been about to wander back inside, Daryl called out to him.

"How about Carol? She up in A Block with Lizzie?"

Hershel knew what had happened to Carol, but he'd be damned if he would be the one to break the news to Daryl. He turned around slowly to face the man who was like a son to him. Rick had made the decision, and he could be the one to deal with the consequences. As much as Hershel disagreed with Carol's method, he knew for sure that she hadn't done what she'd done out of any kind of malice or lack of empathy. Hershel understood Carol's actions the way that she had _assumed_ that Rick would have. He knew that it had been her way, albeit a horrible one, of protecting their family.

No, he wouldn't be the one to do Rick's dirty work. The older man, along with just about everyone else in the prison, had seen how deep the connection ran between Daryl and Carol, and he knew exactly what this was going to do to him. To lose someone you cared about, to know that they were alone and in danger out in the world, and to have to live with the knowledge that they may or may not still be alive somewhere else… well, it would be agony for him.

"No," Hershel said simply. "Talk to Rick about her."

Daryl shaded his face from the sun with his hand and shifted nervously from one foot to the other. He could see that something was wrong, otherwise why would Hershel be so vague? What was there to "talk about?" Even more than he could see that something was wrong, he could _feel_ it. It was obvious that here was a lot that Hershel wasn't telling him.

Hershel, on the other hand, could see that his evasiveness was causing the younger man distress. This was what he hadn't wanted to do, so he said the only thing he could think of that might ease Daryl's mind even slightly while still being the truth. "She's okay. Just talk to him." With that, Hershel turned and walked away. There was nothing else to say.

Daryl went the other direction in search of Rick. As he walked, he felt his heart was hammering in his chest and his throat tightening. She was either alright or she wasn't, and if she had been alright, then Hershel would have just said so. No, Daryl knew that she was anything _but _okay. The bad feeling he'd had ever since he'd been unable to find her before the run now intensified tenfold, and he felt a renewed urgency to find her. Whatever was wrong, he'd feel better when he could at least see her. He always did.

Daryl eventually found Rick, who explained to him what he had done while Daryl's group had been on the medicine run. The words took a minute to penetrate Daryl's brain, just as they had for Carol when Rick had explained his decision to her. When the words finally did sink in, Rick watched a new expression wash over Daryl's face. Rick began to feel uncomfortable, because he wasn't accustomed to the look he was getting from his friend. It took Rick a few minutes to figure out just what the look on Daryl's face was. There was anger there, yes, and even disgust, but there was something else that was much stronger.

More than anything else, Daryl felt betrayed, almost as much so as if Rick had banished _him_. He could only imagine how Carol had felt when he'd told _her._

He stared at Rick for more than a minute in tense silence before he reacted. His mind was still reeling from what Rick had just told him. Rick, a man that was like a brother to him, had taken Carol on a run and he had _left her there_. On purpose, out there somewhere on her own. No matter how tough she was, it basically amounted to a death sentence. Even Daryl, the perpetual lone wolf, had come to terms with the fact that no one could survive on their own anymore. Not for long, anyway, and certainly not indefinitely. Besides that, what gave Rick the right to singlehandedly banish one of their own from the group? Rick, the one who didn't want to make decisions was now deciding who would _live_ and who would _die_?

"She wasn't sorry…" he heard Rick say, though the anger he felt made it hard to focus on the words that were being said to him. It didn't make any sense. He _knew_ Carol, knew her better than he knew himself, and Carol would never in a million years do something malicious to the people in her group. If she'd done what Rick was saying that she'd admitted to doing, then she'd had a good reason. That was all there was to it.

"Man, that's her, but that ain't her." He couldn't even explain it any more clearly… not that it mattered. Rick had decided against Carol, and it appeared that nothing was going to change his mind. Even if he could have changed Rick's mind, it wouldn't have changed anything. _She was already gone._

It wouldn't have mattered how long they discussed it, because as stubborn as Rick was in his belief in Carol's guilt, Daryl's belief in her innocence was equally strong, stronger even. It didn't matter to him what Rick thought he know. Daryl's trust in her was absolutely unshakable, no matter what Rick said or believed. If only that trust changed things somehow.

Before he knew what he was doing, Daryl had turned towards the railing and was leaning his arms against it. He bent over to lean his head against his hands, which were balled tightly into fists. _This can't be happening_, his mind screamed silently. At that moment, he was focusing hard on resisting the urge to punch Rick in the face. Rick, who was his brother, who treated him infinitely better than Merle ever had. Rick, who he had trusted and supported and followed and believed in. Rick, who had always claimed to be looking out for their group. Rick, who Daryl had defended _to Carol_ that night that now seemed to long ago by the campfire after they'd left the Greenes' farm…

Rick, who had single-handedly banished one of their own for doing something that _he _perceived as wrong, no matter what anyone else thought.

_It wasn't up to him to judge anyone else_, Daryl's mind screamed. _But could I have stopped him if I'd been there? _he wondered immediately afterward. He liked to _think_ that he could have.

And if he hadn't been able to? What would he have done? Carol had been through hell already, more than once, and if there was one person who didn't deserve to be sent out into the world alone, it was her.

_I could've…_

He struggled with the thought. _What would I have done?_ If he hadn't been able to convince Rick that banishing her was crazy, would he have just gone along with it, the way he had gone along with some of Rick's other plans that he disagreed with? Like he'd beaten that kid Randall back at the farm, to get information out of him – because Rick had wanted him to? He liked to think that he wouldn't have let Rick send Carol away. But what _would_ he have done instead?

_I could've gone with her. _The thought suddenly popped into his mind. He didn't _want_ to leave the group, but what if the only choices had been let her leave on her own, or go with her? He'd left with Merle once, after all. The pressure in his head continued to increase as he tried to reconcile reality with the "what-if" scenarios.

The only thing he knew for absolute certain was that she was gone. Could he go after her? Could he bring her back?

It was too much.

He looked up when he heard Rick's voice telling him that he didn't know how Tyreese would take it. _So he could show compassion for Tyreese, but not for Carol?_ Carol, who they had known much longer than Tyreese? They'd both known her since right around the end of the world. Rick had witnessed all the different forms of hell that she'd been through, just in the time they'd known her alone. Daryl simply could not wrap his mind around the fact that the man in front of him was the same Rick that he had thought he'd known and trusted.

Daryl stared at the far wall of the cellblock, where the windows allowed them to see the sky. The sky was the only thing that looked the same as it had before the world had gone to hell and forced them to make the kind of horrible choices that they were now faced with. He couldn't look at Rick. He was still too angry.

Was Rick's concern about Tyreese's reaction legitimate, or was he just justifying his actions and using the other man's feelings as an excuse? Tyreese would be angry, but would he be able to get past his anger?

It occurred to Daryl that if they told Tyreese the truth and got it over with, then based on how that went, he would have a better idea about whether bringing Carol back to the prison could be an option. Maybe Tyreese would eventually get past what Carol had done. Maybe _he_ would show more compassion than Rick had. Rick wouldn't like it, of course, but one of his main arguments had been Tyreese's reaction. Maybe, if Tyreese could get past it, then in time Rick could, too.

And if Tyreese _couldn't_ get past it? Would he leave and go out and find her himself anyway? Daryl's head was pounding, but there was no way to answer any of these questions without first talking to Tyreese, and then taking things from there.

"Let's go find out," he said flatly to Rick, standing up straight and walking swiftly past him, around the corner of the railing and down the stairs to the main floor of the cellblock. The only way to deal with the uncertainty of the situation was to remove the uncertainty. If it meant that there was a chance he could get Carol back, he would do it, no matter how bleak the situation looked just then. This wasn't just anyone, this was _Carol_. Daryl cared about everyone in their group, but Carol was… he still didn't know how to complete that thought. He'd lost her once, and miraculously, he'd gotten her back. How had he managed to lose her _again_?

As he pounded down the metal stairs, Daryl tried to force himself to calm down. He knew that his anger often got the better of him, and he couldn't allow that just then. This was too important. _Carol_ was too important.

He got to the bottom of the stairs and turned around, expecting to hear Rick following behind him. Instead, he heard only silence. "Goddammit Grimes, I'm not gonna do your fuckin' dirty work for you! You made this mess, now you damn well get down here and do somethin' about it!" He wondered how Rick would react, but he didn't care. If Rick had any brains in his head, he should have expected this reaction. Not that anything was going on between Daryl and Carol, of course, but that wasn't the point. Everyone could see that they meant something to each other. Daryl was pretty sure that he was actually the _last_ person in the entire prison to figure out just how much Carol meant to him, never mind how you defined it or what that meant. It shouldn't have surprised Rick that Daryl would be pissed off.

Rick _had_ been surprised by Daryl's reaction, even more so by his outburst at the bottom of the stairs, but he recovered after a few seconds and began moving down toward the ground floor. When he got to the bottom, Daryl's icy stare was fixed on him. Rick, still surprised at the ferocity of Daryl's reaction, looked slightly sheepish but resolute. He had done what he'd done for the safety of the group, and he wouldn't back down from that. He could see that Daryl was shocked and that he was hurting, and maybe he had underestimated his friend's feelings for Carol. Still, he hadn't made the decision lightly, and it was done. The next thing to be done was to face Tyreese.

"Let's go find Tyreese," Daryl said, his tone still angry. Rick hesitated slightly, knowing that Daryl wasn't going to make it easy for him. He had a point though. Rick had made the decision alone, and it was only fair that he deal with the repercussions. They didn't see Tyreese in the cellblock or the courtyard, so they wandered toward the tombs. Each time Rick turned to glance behind him, his eyes met a stone faced Daryl looking him dead in the face. It was unsettling, and he looked in front of him again quickly each time. Rick had a feeling that it was going to be like this more some time to come.

And it might have been, but then, things once again changed in the blink of an eye.

…

Daryl was standing beside Carl at the fence at the edge of the courtyard. Maggie, Beth and Tyreese were nearby, all of them with rifles trained down the hill, where they were watching a nightmare play out before their eyes. The Governor had Hershel and Michonne, kneeling, hands tied behind their backs, outside of the fence before him. Around him, he seemed to have amassed a new army of sorts, or a new group at least, since he had massacred many of his Woodbury followers and the rest of them had joined the group at the prison. Rick had been summoned to the fence line for a "talk" with the Governor, though none of them believed for a second that the Governor intended to make any deals with them.

Those at the top of the hill could only hear some of what was being said, but they had no doubt about the Governor's intentions. Maggie and Beth were beside themselves seeing their father at the Governor's mercy and knowing that the Governor _had _no mercy. Their father was alive for the moment, but knowing his captor and what he was capable of, they were terrified that that would change any second. All they could do for that moment was to stand there and wait.

_The Governor. At the prison._ They had hoped that he was dead and gone, though they should have known better than to ever have thought they'd be so lucky. Michonne had been looking all over for him for months, and now suddenly, he had just appeared out of nowhere. This was a man who took holding a grudge to new levels. He didn't just want revenge for what he saw as wrongs that had been done to him, he wanted retribution. He wouldn't be content to make any kind of peaceful bargain and Daryl was pretty sure that they all knew it. He didn't envy Rick down at the fence line, trying to bargain with a madman. What could he possibly say to him that would make any difference?

Daryl's head had still been spinning from the revelation that Carol had been banished from the prison, and now only moments later he was watching the exchange down by the fence. It was just too much, and his head was buzzing. They'd found Tyreese in the tombs, but Rick hadn't told Tyreese what Carol had done after all. It seemed like he'd changed his mind once Tyreese had suggested that the person who was leaving dead rats around the prison to draw walkers was the same person who killed Karen and David. Carol may have killed Karen and David because she had believed that it would save the rest of the group, but there was no way in hell that she was sabotaging them by baiting the walkers. Daryl was thankful that even in his delirium, Rick could see _that much_.

It was all happening so fast. _Too fast._ His plan – more of an idea, really – had been to assess Tyreese's reaction and then, possibly, go out after Carol. He was a skilled tracker, and she hadn't been gone very long yet. It was still a possibility… at least it had been, until the Governor had shown up. It didn't look like he'd be finding out Tyreese's reaction _or_ going after Carol now. Really, if they were still alive at the end of the day, it would be a miracle. Maybe Carol, because she wasn't there, would be the only one of them to survive. Wouldn't it be ironic if being banished had saved her life?

While he fought to keep his attention on the events unfolding in front of his eyes, he felt a tug on his heart at the thought that he might not ever see her again. It wasn't supposed to be this way, any of it. Why had he wasted so much time when he could have… hell, he didn't know, all he knew was that he should've done _something_. The thought that all of this was about to end, everything they'd all worked so hard to build ever since the Turn… they'd survived this long, together… and he had a horrible feeling that it was all about to go up in flames, whether literally, just like the guard tower that had been blown up to announce the Governor's arrival and was still burning nearby, or metaphorically. Maybe it would even be both.

And then suddenly, in an instant, Hershel was on the ground, dying, Michonne was nowhere to be seen, Rick had ducked behind the overturned bus in the middle of the lawn and the air exploded in gunfire from every direction. There was no more time to think, about Carol or about any_thing_ or any_one_ else. If they wanted to stay alive, now was the time for action.


	73. Away

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… or any other tv show copyrights, sadly.**

**Author's Note: First, thank you to my reviewers! You're awesome! Second… I have some bad news, guys. After this chapter, I'm not quite sure how long it's going to take me to post the next one. Life is really busy this week, and next week I'm leaving for a road trip to Canada and won't be back til the last week of August… (I'm stopping at Walker Stalker Boston on the way home!) I **_**promise**_** I won't abandon the story – I love it far too much to do that… but realistically, it'll probably be a while before I get another chapter done. In the meantime, maybe go back and read this story from the beginning and relive it all again! :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one.**

**Season 5, episode 6 (flashback)**

**The Office of Whalen Law Firm LLP (in a town not **_**too **_**far from the prison), Morning**

Carol became conscious little by little, clinging to the feeling of sleep for as long as she could. Despite the fact that she could feel the sun on her eyelids, didn't move a muscle. Keeping her eyes closed, she tried to remember why she was felt so much dread at the idea of dread waking up. It wasn't like her to do this; she usually woke up quickly, checked for danger and then pushed herself out of bed to get the day started. It wasn't that she was a morning person, exactly, more that she'd never had the luxury of sleeping in.

She tried to piece together why she was so reluctant to wake up. Surprisingly, she hadn't had a nightmare – she was always glad to wake up and escape from those. Surely it couldn't be morning already! She felt like she'd only just been lying awake, wishing for sleep that had seemed unwilling to come. How long had she waited the night before, grappling with her thoughts?

Time had been a relatively meaningless concept since the Turn, at least in terms of what time it might be throughout the day. The sun came up, the sun went down. Beyond that, it was all just a guessing game. She had given her watch to Rick, but it hadn't worked anyway. Like nearly all the others by now, the battery was dead. That seemed like an appropriate metaphor for time itself. Now that there were no clocks or watches that worked, time really didn't mean much.

Eyes still closed, Carol allowed her thoughts to drift slowly towards the events that had led her to where she now was (where _was_ she again?). After a few minutes, she finally remembered why she had dreaded being awake.

_The run. Rick. "I won't have you there." _

And there was reality, crashing down on her head once more. She'd been banished from the only people in the world that she cared about. The only ones who were still alive, anyway.

Letting out a long, heavy sigh, she tried to push the reality of her current situation to the back corner of her mind and to focus on what little positive she could find. She was still alive, and the room around her was perfectly silent, implying that she was probably safe for the moment, so she supposed that that was a start. She could feel the cushions of the lumpy couch under her, and she wondered how long she could possibly lie there. In theory, she could lie there almost indefinitely. Right at that moment she didn't feel the will to do much of anything at all but feel sorry for herself.

Of course, it wasn't safe to just lay there with her eyes closed indefinitely. This new world was all about being alert and aware of your surroundings.

_But what's the point? _asked the voice in her head.

She choked back a sudden sob, swallowing it as quickly as it had threatened to come out. _I have no one, _she reminded herself bitterly. She wondered, if she repeated the words enough times, they would lose their sting. She said the sentence several more times in her mind. If the words were going to lose their power, apparently it was going to take a while.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she tried to focus only on putting air in her lungs and pushing it out again, nothing more than that for the moment. _No, you're stronger than this, _she told herself. She only half believed it, but it was a start.

She lay on the couch, concentrating only on taking deep breaths, for a few more minutes. Slowly, she was feeling better. Just like all pity parties, hers had come to an end, and she finally opened her eyes and sat up, turning her body and putting her feet on the floor. No matter how well she may or may not have been able to cope with the emptiness she felt emotionally, her stomach was not as talented, and it grumbled in protest at having been ignored for so long.

There was a small amount of food in the office kitchen, snacks mostly, and she ate just enough to stop her stomach from rumbling, but not more. She knew that she could scavenge supplies from the houses nearby, but now that she was alone she had to be smart about moving around outside. There were so many more dangers for her, and she knew it.

While she wasn't the victim that she had once been and she could defend herself, the way the world was now, one person could only do so much. But would she find another group to join? How could she be sure that she could trust _anyone_ new that she might meet? The short answer was, of course, that she _couldn't_ trust anyone… and she didn't want to. If someone that she had trusted so much could banish her from her own group… _No,_ she told herself firmly, _I'm not going down that road._

She couldn't even stomach the thought of trying to join another group anyway. For better or worse, after all they'd been through, the group back at the prison had become her family. They'd been through so much together. The idea of starting over with an entire group of people who didn't know her and who she didn't know… while it would be nice to be with people who didn't see her as a monster, it left her exhausted just thinking about it.

Sure, she liked to help people. There were most likely people in need of help out there somewhere. Most people who were still alive were in need of help these days. But even _if_ she managed to find some of them, and _if_ those people had honorable intentions – which she couldn't know for sure – still, she couldn't imagine trying to start all over with a group of strangers.

Emotionally, she was completely empty. Family wasn't something you just dropped when they became a nuisance or when you disagreed with them, which was why Rick's decision had baffled her so completely and hurt her so deeply. She had thought that they were family to each other by now. True, they had been strangers to each other a few years ago, but that didn't matter. Or, that _shouldn't have _mattered. It felt as though she'd known him – and all the rest of them – all of her life. No, she didn't _want_ to replace them, and the thought that they wouldn't want her there, that they would be horrified by what she had done to try to keep them safe, was devastating.

She sighed heavily as she moved about the kitchen, checking through the cupboards and the large pantry for anything useful. How would Lizzie and Mika do without her to look after them? She had promised Ryan that she would take care of them, after all. And Judith… Beth was wonderful with her, and everyone in the group loved the little girl, but Carol couldn't bear the thought of not seeing "Lil' Asskicker" grow up. There was already a wave of emotion building up inside her, and she swallowed hard against it, attempting to push it down again.

Her head felt like it might explode. She couldn't _do_ this to herself. She loved them, but it hurt her heart just to think about them now, knowing that she couldn't go back. Knowing that Rick didn't want her there, and if the rest of them knew what she had done, they probably wouldn't either. She closed her eyes and let her head fall down to her chest as she bit her lip and breathed in slowly. She put her hand on the counter to steady herself, and in another minute the wave of emotion that had crashed over her had passed. She opened her eyes and stared distractedly out the window without really seeing anything in front of her.

_But why was it up to Rick?_ There were lots of others there… and yes, she had done something horrible, but surely it must count for something that she'd done it to save all of their lives… didn't it? At the time, she hadn't seen any other choice. Rick was only one person, and he was no longer their leader. He had voluntarily given up that post, and the responsibility to make decisions for the group along with it. Others besides him should be a part of making the decision as to whether she should be banished or not.

But could she bear to have everyone know what she'd done, to look at her as the monster that _she_ already saw when she looked in the mirror? How would she be able to face them all, especially Tyreese? She'd _killed_ the woman he loved. Disease or no disease, that was the ugly truth. Would they understand? Would they see her as the same person she'd always been? Or would they, like Rick, only see the monster? Should she go back and beg for forgiveness from the others? Surely Daryl and the others wouldn't be as quick to brush her off as Rick had been…

_Daryl._

She'd been unable to face him before. Could she face him _now_? Would it be easier to face him than to face the others? Or would it be harder? On the one hand, the two of them were very close, and they always had been. Their pasts gave them a connection with each other that they didn't share with anyone else. He had never failed to understand her before. Surely, he would understand her this time.

Except – and she'd had this thought when she'd avoided him that last day before his run – except that if he _didn't_ forgive her, _that_ would feel worse than having been banished in the first place. If _Daryl_ thought she was a monster… that would feel worse than anything that had happened so far. Worse than being banished. Worse than being beaten by Ed. Worse than knowing that she would never see her "other" family – the one that she'd been born into – again. Worse than being endlessly pursued by walkers for the last few years. In a way, it would be worse than losing Sophia. Not that losing your child wasn't the ultimate in pain… but even at that terrible time, she'd had Daryl. If she lost him too, along with all the rest of them… Well, if that happened, she would truly have lost everything worth having in the world.

Her mind tumbled in circles, coming back to the same questions, the same worries, going in the same spiral over and over for hours. She couldn't bear his rejection, so it seemed safer not to give him the chance. It made sense in her mind, though when she put the thought into words in her head, it sounded wrong even to her.

_In order not to lose him completely, I have to stay away. It's the only way._

Later, she was standing at the kitchen window and adjusting the plastic bags that she had found rigged just outside to catch rain water, when she saw the smoke. She knew that she was facing the direction of the prison, so when she saw the smoke, her immediate thought was that she had to see if they were alright or if they needed help_. _Whether they wanted her there or not, she couldn't stand by and watch them die if there was something that she could do to save them. She grabbed her bag from the other room as she ran for the front door of the building, pausing only very briefly to glance around for danger beyond the door before exiting the building and closing the door securely behind her.

Would she come back to this place? She didn't know. If she got close to the prison and they were alright, would she turn around and come back? Perhaps it would be easier that way. It would spare her from the possible rejection, for sure. There was no time to stop and consider that. Just then, all she knew was that she had to get there and see if they needed help.

She wasn't sure how long she drove or how fast she was going, but the trees alongside the road were whipping by faster than she was accustomed to them going. Her vision was laser focused ahead of her. As the road wound through the trees, she caught an occasional glance of the smoke. It wasn't coming from a _small_ fire, that much was pretty clear.

When she knew that she was getting close, she began to slow down. She could sense that something was terribly wrong, and she couldn't just go barreling into danger. Soon after she passed a sign that warned of the possibility that hitchhikers could be escaping inmates, the pit of her stomach filled with dread and she pulled the car to a stop. Not far ahead, she could see one of the guard towers in flames. The smell of smoke was heavy in the air, and noises that she couldn't identify echoed in the distance.

_What had happened?_

Grabbing her bag, she turned off the car and got out as silently as she could. She needed to get to the cover of the woods. She needed to find out what had happened to her family, and whether there was anything she could do to help them… whether they wanted her to, or not.

_Maybe I'm a monster_, she thought, _but if I am, then whoever did this had better watch out. _If it was within her power, she was going to save them.


	74. Lost

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… if only!**

**Author's Note: I know, I know, it has taken me much longer than I'd expected to get back to this story. After I got home from my big road trip in August, not only was I swamped trying to catch up on work and everything else, but I also dove head first into the other fanfic I'm writing (for my other fav show), and got so into it that I'm only now coming up for air. Hopefully, this chapter was worth the wait. It's not my personal favorite, but we **_**know**_** the good stuff is coming… so enjoy!**

**Season 4, episode 10**

**Somewhere in the woods, Night**

In the chaos at the prison after the Governor attacked, Daryl and Beth had ended up fleeing together.

Beth had been on the bus, which _should_ have meant safe passage away from the prison, but Maggie had gone in search of Glenn in the cellblock, and by the time the other people on the bus decided it was time to leave, she hadn't returned. No matter what Maggie had told her to do, Beth wasn't leaving without her. Despite everyone's warnings, she had gotten back off the bus to find her sister. The youngest Greene had gone from meek to fearless since the end of the world.

Daryl had just been trying to cover the others in his group so they could get away safely. It wasn't so much that he was being brave or noble or anything like that. At least _he _didn't think he was acting brave. Being brave required you to be afraid, and Daryl didn't feel afraid, despite the danger. What he did feel was pissed off. It was no wonder, with the way things had been happening. There was a lot for him to be angry about. He'd been pissed off ever since Rick had told him about Carol's banishment.

Somehow as he'd been making his way out of the prison, Daryl had ended up with Beth. They hadn't seen any of the others, though it seemed likely that at least some of them had made it out okay. Still, that didn't mean they'd find each other. Not this time. They'd been lucky last time, when the walkers had driven them off the Greenes' farm. It was unlikely they'd get that lucky again.

Still, the thought that he might never see the others again wasn't sinking in. He didn't want it to. It was all just too much. Losing Carol had been bad enough, but now the rest of them, too? He recalled the haunted look in Carol's eyes back at the farm after they'd found Sophia in the barn, and he understood the feeling that went along with it now. It felt… empty. He, Daryl Dixon, the man who had never needed or wanted anything to do with anyone except his asshole brother in his whole life up to the Turn, had never had the luxury of having a family. He had only just learned what it felt like to be a part of something. He'd even grown to like it, which was why it didn't surprise him that it had been ripped away from him. Life was a bitch sometimes.

He and Beth had run for what felt like hours, until they couldn't run any farther, and they both collapsed on the ground in the tall grass. They laid there and caught their breath for a while, until they had the energy to get up and look around.

When they finally did, they decided that they had put enough distance between themselves and The Governor or any of his followers that might still be alive, as well as any walkers that may have discovered them along the way, to stop running for the time being. By this time it was dark, and they made a small campfire where they sat across from each other silently. They didn't have any food, but the chances of Daryl finding anything if he'd gone out hunting then were slim to none. Not that he'd considered it. Despite the fact that they needed food desperately, all he could do was sit across from Beth and stare into the fire, thinking about how none of it mattered anyway. What was the point?

Beth had gone on and on about finding the others. He wondered if he just sat still and ignored her long enough, then maybe she'd stop and leave him the hell alone. Couldn't the girl see that it was all pointless? No matter what happened, no matter how hard they fought, it didn't mean shit. They would try and try, and for what? If they were lucky enough to find the others, they'd get to watch each other die, probably painfully, one at a time, knowing that eventually it would be their turn for an equally brutal death. Maybe this was better. At least this way they didn't have to watch it happen.

She was persistent, however, and despite everything that had happened, somehow Beth didn't lose hope that they would find the others, that it would all somehow be okay. Even Daryl's brooding behavior and his stony silence failed to deter her, to his annoyance. The more he tried to ignore her, the more that hope made her frantic, and he eventually realized that she was not going to give up on finding their group. No, this certainly wasn't the same teenager he'd met back on the farm. Then again, he mused, he wasn't exactly the same person he'd been back then either. He had Carol to thank for that.

He felt a lurch in his stomach every time he thought about her, though he tried unsuccessfully to push her out of his mind. She was gone. The chances of finding her again now… well… she could be _anywhere_. No, it was stupid to hope for something like that. The world was fucked up enough without giving himself something like that to obsess over. Better if he faced reality. She was _gone_, and that was that. Better yet was if he didn't think about her at all. Then he didn't have to admit to himself how much it hurt to lose her… _again_.

As they walked, they came upon walkers crouched down on the ground, eating what had once been… someone. They'd checked the best they could to see if they recognized the walker meal as anyone they knew. When they decided hopefully that their friends weren't the ones laying in front of them splayed open, Beth had broken down in tears. She was full of fire and determination, sure, but even so, as strong as she was, she was still a little girl in some ways. She'd reached her breaking point. He couldn't tell if her tears were caused by relief that it didn't seem to be anyone they knew, or disgust with what they were seeing, both of them mixed together or something else completely.

He walked a short distance away, wanting to leave that scene behind and thinking maybe she'd follow him. Maybe she would stop crying if she came away from the gruesomeness of what they were seeing. But she'd stood where she was, just sobbing helplessly. He stopped walking and then sighed, stood still for a long few minutes, hoping she'd run out of tears… but the dam seemed to have burst in her, and she didn't show signs of stopping anytime soon.

Sighing again, Daryl turned around and walked back, past Beth and towards the walkers on the ground. They were distracted by their meals, and almost before they had time to react to his proximity, he'd shot each of them in the head, collecting the arrows afterwards and replacing them on his crossbow. He walked back to where Beth was standing, still sniffling, and stood about a few feet in front of her.

She looked up at him and attempted a smile, sniffling loudly. He just stared at her blankly, silently begging her to stop crying. He couldn't take the crying anymore. Yes, he felt bad for her – the kid had just watched her father get decapitated before her eyes, and now her sister, her only remaining relative, along with every other living person they knew, was missing. In this world, missing was almost as bad as dead. They might never know one way or the other what had happened to any of them. Still, there was really nothing he could do for her, other than kill whatever walkers came along. He barely even had the will to do that much. Still, he'd keep her safe for as long as he could.

She watched him standing in front of her. The look on his face was _off_, even for as closed off as Daryl normally looked. It was the same look he'd had on his face since they'd stopped running from the Governor and the prison. He seemed far away. Detached. Angry, but not in the way he'd often been when she'd met him on the farm, when he'd sometimes seemed angry at the world. He didn't seem to have it in him to do much of anything. She could relate, of course, but she knew that giving up was not an option. To survive, they _had _to keep going.

Beth was young, but she knew that whatever was happening with Daryl had to do with Carol. _Everyone_, it seemed, except Rick, had known that there was _something_ very important between the two of them. She didn't have to imagine how he was feeling, because she knew. She had lost the people she loved most in the world, just like he had. They handled the feeling differently, though, and she decided that now that they had made it out of the prison, her new job was to help Daryl, to keep him from giving up. She'd always felt better when she had a job to do. Sighing, she hoped that her father would have been proud of her for giving herself this important job.

Daryl continued to stand in front of her, just watching her, his blank expression remaining unchanged. Her sniffling finally stopped, and she took a deep breath, comforted slightly by the thought of her father, though it sent a stabbing pain through her heart at the same time. "Thanks," she whispered, glancing up at him quickly, then out at the woods beyond him. He moved his head almost imperceptibly as a nod of acknowledgement, then turned and continued walking in the direction they'd been heading when they'd come across the walkers. She followed slowly behind him, feeling drained and exhausted. _Keep going_, she told herself. _We've all got jobs to do, and helping Daryl not give up is yours._

…

After seeing the aftermath of the fight at the prison, Carol had known that something terrible had happened there. Despite not officially being a part of that group anymore, she hoped desperately that the people she loved had made it out alive.

She'd scouted the area around the perimeter fences, staying under the cover of the woods, to try to get a better look, but there were far more walkers than usual, drawn by the noise of the fighting and the explosions, and she couldn't see anything but destruction. Nothing alive. The only movement that she could make out was accompanied by moaning and shuffling.

She didn't dare venture inside the prison grounds, despite how badly she wanted to know what had become of her loved ones. There were simply too many walkers for her to fight off on her own, and who knew what else, or who else, would be lurking inside. Once she couldn't take the sight of the ruined prison anymore, she'd set off through the woods. She had no particular destination in mind, she just hoped against hope that she'd find out that her group was alright, even if she couldn't be with them. If she could just know that they were alright, she could let it go and try to move on.

_Are you sure? _the voice asked her. _Could you move on and let them go on without you?_

_What choice do I have? _the other voice asked.

_Maybe you could talk to the others. Maybe you _could_ make them understand._

_Maybe… _she thought wistfully as she moved silently through the forest. Her senses on high alert, her ears were strained to hear noises from any direction and her eyes examined every inch of the group around her for signs of people having passed by. She silently thanked Daryl for teaching her the skills to be able to do this, but somehow allowed herself no other thoughts about him. It was too painful.

She swore she heard a twig snap, and wheeled around to see… absolutely nothing but trees and small forest plants. Not even a squirrel or a mouse. It was as if everything in the forest had fled the area when the Governor had rolled in. That was the state she lived in now – perpetual alertness. It was exhausting, and it was lonely. But she was alive, and that was all she allowed herself to focus on… most of the time.

It seemed pointless to think that she'd hear signs of anyone. She doubted that anyone in the group who'd survived would make much noise for her to hear. By this point, they were too smart for that. _They could be so close by, they might need help, and I might never know_, she lamented.

That was when she heard it.

The sound was faint but unmistakable, at least to her. It was the sound of a fussy baby. It was Judith… it _had_ to be. How many babies could there possibly be out in the woods these days? A small smile crept across her lips as she focused on the sound, which echoed faintly, trying to decide on the most likely direction it was coming from. _Judith is alive_. That meant that at least one other person was with her. Despite how conflicted she felt about the group, she was relieved that the youngest and most vulnerable member of the group was alive.

Filled with a renewed sense of energy, she set off silently through the trees in the general direction from which she'd heard Judith's cries. Maybe whoever was with Judith needed help. After all, it wasn't easy fighting off walkers while holding a baby. Maybe whoever it was would forgive what she had done. It seemed almost too much to hope for, but what did she have to lose? She'd already lost everything, but maybe she could get some of it back.

Another thought filled her with dread as she slipped through the trees. _What if whoever's with Judith isn't from __**our**__ group? _Without thinking about it, her thoughts slipped back to thinking of herself as part of the group. _What if Judith's in danger?_ She tried to push the thought from her mind as quickly as it had entered, but the seed of worry remained. _She's alive. If she's in danger, then I'll save her, _she told herself resolutely.

Her pace quickened slightly, but she continued to move with stealth, her senses heightened by both fear and anticipation. It wouldn't be long before she caught up to whoever it was out there.


	75. Something

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but that's fine with me, because there's only 2 days left before season 6 starts! YAY!**

**Author's Note: An extra special thank you to my reviewers – I so appreciate your comments! – and thanks to all of you who are still reading this story. Hard to believe I'm up to chapter 75! Once upon a time I thought I'd have caught up with the show by the time season 6 started... but I'll get there eventually. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Season 4, episodes 10 and 12**

**Somewhere in the woods, Day**

Carol had been right, of course, about hearing Judith's cries. It was both a blessing and a curse that the little girl wasn't old enough to understand that she was putting them in danger. It had allowed Carol to find the girls, but of course there was no telling who, or what, else had heard her as well.

As she trudged through the woods holding Judith close, with Lizzie and Mika beside her, she shuddered to think about what would have happened if she hadn't found the girls when she did. Tyreese, the kind soul that he was, had gone off to try to help a father and son fight off a group of walkers, leaving the two older girls in charge of Judith, alone in the woods. They had a gun, yes, but they also had a crying baby. The two of them, as wonderful as they were with Judith, weren't old enough to know how to calm a screaming baby. Carol could guess from what she observed when she found them that Lizzie had been trying to quiet Judith, and had resorted to nearly smothering the poor little girl.

_She could have killed her_. Carol pushed the thought from her mind. She had found them in time, after all. Judith, Lizzie and Mika were alive, and that was all that mattered.

Coming across the girls had been a relief. After the destruction that she had seen at the prison, it seemed impossible that the three of them - that _any _of them, really – were alive... but there they were, right in front of her. It was a miracle. They said that they'd been with Tyreese, and that he was nearby. That news, on the other hand, had caused her stomach to start churning immediately.

_Did he know what she had done? How would he react to seeing her? _She couldn't just walk away from the girls, though, no matter how afraid she might be. Whatever Tyreese's reaction to her was… well, she deserved it, she supposed.

Carol and the girls headed cautiously in the direction that Lizzie and Mika said that Tyreese had gone. Despite her nerves, holding Judith in her arms helped to calm her somewhat. She could only hope that her reunion with Tyreese would be civil enough that the children wouldn't be frightened.

Hearing a slight commotion ahead, Carol motioned for Lizzie and Mika to slow down and stay behind her. She was unsure what she could really do while holding Judith, but figured that if need be, she could hand her off to one of the older girls quickly. They moved forward at an agonizingly slow pace, but Carol couldn't risk ending up in the middle of a situation where she couldn't protect the girls.

Coming to a break in the trees, they peered out and saw train tracks, and Tyreese, who was busy putting down what appeared to be the last walker from a group. It wasn't clear what had happened, but whatever it was, it seemed to be over. The sight of Tyreese made Carol freeze in place, not sure what to expect when he turned around.

Lizzie and Mika, on the other hand, walked around her, seemingly not bothered by the fact that Carol had stopped walking. Carol felt like maybe she should stop them from moving closer to the gruesome scene, but couldn't bring herself to speak. _Besides, _she told herself, _they've seen it before, and worse. _It was a depressing thought, but that was life these days. These girls were no strangers to that reality.

She managed to convince her feet to move slowly forward behind the older girls, growing more unsure with every step. Finally, she couldn't take the uncertainty any longer. Tyreese had yet to turn around, so she called out his name.

The next few seconds felt as though they lasted for years. She watched as Tyreese turned and saw her, then as he began running towards them. For a second, Carol considered running away herself, afraid that he was going to attack her. But he reached the group of them and to her surprise, he scooped her into a hug immediately, appearing genuinely glad to see her. There was no conflict in his eyes.

_He must not know, still_, she thought. She was flooded with relief, but simultaneously once again felt guilty and stressed. _Eventually he'll find out. And what then? _There was no way to know how or when that moment would happen, and as much as she dreaded it, it almost felt like it would be better to get it over with than live with the uncertainty.

_What will Tyreese do to me when he learns what a monster I really am?_

Still, she decided to allow herself the luxury of accepting his delight to see her, and his embrace, wondering if it would be the last time in her life that someone was glad to see her. The thought caused a chill to run down her spine, but she decided quickly that if that was the case, then she'd better enjoy it now so that she could remember the feeling.

_I'll be alone again soon enough,_ she thought sadly, then quickly pushed the feeling out of her mind. It was just another unpleasant reality of life. Eventually he was going to find out, and then she'd be lucky if he didn't want to kill her. There was no way he'd want her around.

…

Daryl had tried his best to ignore Beth, but it wasn't easy. He wasn't going to leave her to the walkers, of course, and he was always listening for danger, making sure that she was safe. He just didn't have it in him to engage in conversation, or to be all sunshiny and hopeful, the way she was. What was the point? The two of them were the only ones left, or they may as well have been. He was doing his best to numb himself to all of the losses, trying not to think about all of the people they loved who had perished… but it was fucking hard. He'd finally allowed himself to be a part of the group, and now…

No, it was too much. This was exactly the reason he didn't want to talk about anything with her. Talking wasn't going to solve anything. It wasn't going to bring them back. All it would do was bring up all the feelings that he desperately didn't want to feel.

But dammit, she'd kept going, looking at him with those eyes that still managed to light up even after everything they'd been through. Surely she'd seen enough that the spark should have gone out by now? But no, it hadn't. Maybe, just maybe, she was tougher than he'd given her credit for. After all, he himself felt pretty much defeated. Yet somehow she was still fighting on. He didn't know if that made her tough, or just really, really naïve and stupid.

Then she'd gotten it in her head that she wanted to have alcohol for the first time, and she'd been bound and determined that it was going to happen. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why she wanted it so badly, but eventually he decided to help her look for some. What the hell else did he have to do? Maybe it was because she wanted it so badly, or maybe because he needed something – _anything _– to latch onto, and that was as good of a goal as any other. It gave him something to focus on beyond just surviving another hour, something to take his mind off of everything that they'd lost.

They'd searched that damn country club, cleared out plenty of walkers, and come up with nothing but Peach fucking Schnapps. He didn't know why he was so determined that her first drink shouldn't be Peach Schnapps. Somewhere during the hunt for alcohol, he'd become committed to finding her that drink, and all he knew was that that shit shouldn't be nobody's first drink.

In any case, he'd smashed the bottle of Peach Schnapps. He really, really hated that kinda shit. And anyway, come to think of it, he knew of something better that wasn't even too far away. All they had to do was get back to that shack that he and Michonne had found a while back when they'd been wandering around looking for The Governor... assuming, of course, that it was still standing, and that the moonshine supply they'd found hadn't already been raided. However, he decided that it was worth a shot. He doubted that there could be _too _many teenagers on quests for alcohol running around the woods of rural Georgia anymore, so he steered them in that direction.

He didn't, however, tell Beth that that was where they were going. She followed him in annoyance through the trees for what felt like hours, wondering what had suddenly possessed him. That morning he'd barely had the will to put one foot in front of the other, and now she was struggling to keep up with him. There was something going on with him, she just didn't know exactly what it was. So she trailed along behind him, trying to figure it out. Besides, what else did she have to do?

Daryl, of course, wasn't giving any clues. He was just as silent and stone faced as ever, looking back at her in annoyance when she fell more than a few steps behind to be sure that she was still there. Somehow he was managing to keep a breakneck pace without looking like he was exerting any effort whatsoever, and without making a sound.

"Daryl," she whispered loudly from behind him, finally unable to sustain his pace and fed up with not knowing the reason he was in such a rush. He glanced around quickly for any sign of company, then stopped and looked back at her, his face giving away nothing. "Where are we going?" She was certain he must know, the way he was walking with such determination.

"Looking for a building, a house, just… something," he said in a low voice. "Gonna be dark soon, 'd rather not be outside when it is."

She stared at him, exasperated. He'd been walking like a man possessed because he was looking for… "something?" Of course, she'd rather not be outside when it got dark either, but still, it didn't make sense.

He could tell from looking at her that she was pissed and probably confused as well. It made sense, he supposed. He knew he'd been suddenly acting different, and definitely unlike how he'd been since they'd escaped from the prison and lost the others. He didn't blame her for being confused. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to tell her that he knew what he was doing, that he was almost sure he knew where she could find that drink that she wanted so badly. After all, it would've been a shame if he'd gotten her hopes up and then the stash had been gone.

No, it was better to have her pissed at him and confused as hell. As far as he was concerned, he didn't owe her an explanation. Hell, he didn't owe nothin' to no one. The world was a fucked up place, and his behavior was far from the most messed up thing that was happening around them.

Still, he hated that she was staring at him with those damned big eyes of hers. They were so fuckin' bright, nearly all the time. He hated it, but at the same time he almost liked it. They were so full of hope, the rarest of rare commodities anymore… and yet, what the fuck was _wrong _with her that made her so hopeful? Everything and now every_one_ was _gone, _for fuck's sake. What the fuck was there to be so goddamned hopeful about?

Daryl had never had much use for hope, now least of all. And yet… it was so tempting to think that maybe, just maybe, _something _would work out for them for once. No, it was _too _tempting. Once you started down the road of believin' in shit, you just set yourself up to be disappointed. That was one of the things he'd learned at a very young age.

He didn't try to hold her gaze, though it seemed like she wanted him to. He glanced at her, then looked around quickly to check the forest around them once again for any signs of danger. At least there was that to fall back on when he didn't want to stand there and stare at her. She was tryin' to figure out somethin' by looking at him hard enough, but he wasn't havin' none of it. Just another reason he hated dealin' with people – tryin' to figure them out. That little doe eyed thing didn't work on him. She was a teenager, a kid. The looks she gave him sometimes… well, who the hell knew what she was thinking.

But he wasn't thinking about her like _that_, that was for damn sure. She was like the cute little sister he never had. She was one of their group, and he'd cared about all of 'em. It just so happened that she was the only other one left. He cursed himself for even letting his mind form that last thought – that they were the last ones left – since it inevitably led to thinking about the others, the ones they'd lost. So many good people…

And then without warning, _her_ face swam before his eyes. Carol's. He had somehow managed not to think about her since they'd left the prison… probably on account of the fact that they'd been busy running for their lives, and when they'd actually sat down to rest, he'd been doing his best not to think about shit.

But now she was there in his mind, and he couldn't get the image to go away. He felt a pain in his chest, and inhaled slowly and deliberately. _Dammit_, he thought. _What had become of her?_

Beth was still watching him when something in his face changed. Suddenly his expression was… darker, for lack of a better word. Of course, Daryl had never let himself be easy to read. Still, despite how he occasionally lashed out, she wasn't afraid of him when he was like this – not like she had been back when his group arrived at their farm – she was just confused by him.

It was hard to watch him like this, refusing to talk about whatever it was that was bothering him. Refusing to talk about _anything_, really. She shook her head slowly, thinking that it was just her luck that at the end of the world she'd get stuck with someone who seemed to never, ever want to talk about anything.

Of course, it wasn't that hard to guess what was on his mind. Most likely it was one of only a few things. As crazy as it seemed, she doubted that the main danger they faced, the walkers, had anything to do with what was bothering him. Daryl didn't seem to be more than just annoyed by them. Even _she_ had almost gotten used to watching out for them and killing them when she had to, though she didn't think she'd ever really be comfortable doing it. No, more likely it was the fact that they'd just been forced from their only home and lost touch with everyone one they knew.

Or, even _more_ likely, it was about Carol. It had been pretty obvious for quite a while that they loved each other, even if neither of them had seemed to know what to do about it. She still couldn't believe that Rick had banished her from the group… Carol, who would do anything for anyone. Daryl hadn't been the same since. Who knew if they'd ever see each other again. It seemed unlikely, because it wasn't like before, when you could just call someone on their cell phone. These days, when someone was gone, they were just… _gone_. There was no way to know for sure if you'd see them again.

The loss of someone so important to him was a feeling Beth could definitely understand. She watched as her father was murdered right in front of her. No matter what else might happen, he was gone. Still, she'd been raised to care about others and not just herself, even at times like this, and her heart ached on his behalf.

She knew that she was giving him that look that he hated, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. They'd stood there for a long minute, Beth staring and Daryl and Daryl looking hard at the trees before he had had enough. "Come on," he said gruffly. "Think there's somethin' up ahead." She followed him once more, shaking her head.

A little while later, darkness was falling and they'd slowed down a bit. Beth couldn't stand the silence anymore, and was almost desperate for something that would make Daryl talk to her. "If I guess right about you, from… before, will you tell me?"

He glanced back at her over his shoulder, saw that damned hopeful look in her eyes once again, and nodded. _Can't hurt nothin', _he thought to himself. Zack had told her about how he was trying to guess what Daryl had done before the Turn. It was as good a game as any now that he was the only other one left, she supposed.

She was quiet for a long time, so long that Daryl had forgotten that she'd asked about guessing his former profession. Suddenly, out of nowhere, she spoke. "A motorcycle mechanic."

"Huh?" he asked, glancing back at her. _The hell was she talkin' about now?_

"That's my guess. For what you were doing before the Turn." She paused, and then asked, "Did Zack ever guess that one?"

It was hard to hear her utter the kid's name, even after some time had passed. There would never be enough time to erase the memory of the way he had died, the same way it was for so many of the others. "It don't matter. Hasn't mattered for a long time," he replied evenly.

Beth walked a little faster, coming to walk beside him instead of behind him. Why couldn't she make him understand? She knew that it didn't really _matter_ what he'd done before, it was just something to talk about, so she didn't go out of her mind from the silence, and from all of the thoughts stuck inside her head. "It's just what people talk about. You know, to feel normal."

"Yeah well, that never felt normal to me," he said without emotion. Before she could reply, they came out of the trees to a dirt driveway leading to a small wooden shack amidst the trees. She noticed that he didn't look surprised to see it.

_Had this been their destination all along? _she wondered.

"Found this place with Michonne," he told her simply.

"I was expecting a liquor store." Beth had to admit, she was a bit disappointed. How likely was it that there would be anything to drink here? Still, it would be a better place to spend the night than outside in the woods. Shelter was shelter, after all.

"Nah, this is better," he replied as they walked up to it.

A few minutes later, she had what she had wanted so badly – her first drink of alcohol.


	76. Tracking

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but who has that kinda time, anyway?**

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, but this was one of those chapters that fought me tooth and nail. Thankfully, in the end it all came together. I hope you enjoy it… YAY for another new episode tomorrow night! **

**Season 4, episodes 12, 13 and 14**

**Somewhere in the woods, Night**

As they stood looking up at the wooden building that was quickly being consumed by flames, Daryl felt a weight lift off of his shoulders ever so slightly. It didn't change anything, of course, but he felt better regardless. They couldn't stay there looking at the fire for long, because walkers would be drawn to it, but in those seconds that he looked back at the flames, it released something in him that he hadn't realized he was still carrying after all this time. _His past_.

He'd thought that he'd left all that behind years ago, and for the most part he had. Hell, they _all _had. No one had had a choice but to let go of their pasts. There was no possible way to hold onto them even if they _wanted _to! And yet, even so, somehow he hadn't let go. Not really.

Of course, he certainly had come a long way from the punk ass kid who followed Merle around and did whatever his asshole brother decided they were going to do. He missed Merle, but the person he had been when he was around him wasn't someone he was proud of. Not that he was all that much to be proud of now, but at least he tried to do the right thing. He tried to tell himself that he was okay, though the words seemed meaningless. _How the fuck is any of this okay? _

_No, _he told himself again, _it's okay. It's gotta be… Because, this is it. This is life now. So you gotta be okay._

_Gotta be_.

It was funny how a stray thought, a few words, could do that to him. As he and Beth turned from the flames and walked away, back into the woods, he tried to push the thought, those two words, and her _face_ from his mind. Not because he didn't care, but because it hurt too much to think about her. Because he cared _too much_.

He tried to leave all these thoughts behind him in the fire, along with his past. It wouldn't do any good to dwell on things he couldn't control, on people who he'd probably never see again. And yet…

He'd thought – no, he'd _known_ – that she was dead once before, but she hadn't been. They'd dug her a _grave_ for fuck's sake. After going through that and finding out that somehow, she was still alive, how could he help but hold out hope that she was still alive now, when he had no real reason to think otherwise besides the fact that he hadn't seen her lately?

When he allowed it to, his mind fought a battle between _she has survived worse and she'll survive this, too _and what seemed to be the more reasonable _but there's just no way to survive alone out there. _Mostly, he'd been trying not to think of her at all, alive or dead, because both possibilities hurt too much. That was why he'd been so detached with Beth when they'd escaped the prison. But that was no way to live, either. She'd made him see that. So he stopped pushing himself quite so hard to erase Carol from his thoughts, and instead just focused on the events that life was putting in front of him. It was almost the same thing, really, just a slight change in his thought process. But he felt a little better, and that was all that mattered.

After their evening of drunken conversation, a little bit of hostility and some arson for good measure, during which Daryl had talked more than the entire time since they'd escaped the prison put together, Beth noticed that things became less awkward between them. It was as though she could see him coming back a little bit, the Daryl that she had known at the prison. The one who cared about people, who was quiet, yes, but not the sullen and withdrawn Daryl with whom she had escaped from the prison.

She couldn't exactly consider it a victory, but it was something. It was almost as though a spark of hope had returned to Daryl, and it made her happy. She was proud of herself, because after all, taking care of Daryl was the job she'd assigned to herself. She liked to think that somewhere, her father was watching over her and that he was proud of her, too.

…

He wasn't sure how long he'd been there, sitting in the middle of the road where he'd collapsed after trying to chase the car that took Beth on foot. It didn't matter how long it'd been. He didn't have the energy to stand up and move, and what was the point? It wasn't as though cars were going to be coming by. And so what if one _did_? There had been one thing he had been trying to do – to keep Beth safe – and he had failed. Someone had come along and taken her while he fought off the walkers. But who? And why? And where had they gone? He couldn't chase them on foot. No, the hopelessness that he'd only just let go of flooded back through him, stronger than ever.

This would have been a terrifying situation even before the world had gone to hell. Now… now it was a thousand times worse. People didn't seem to feel obliged to act like human beings anymore, from what they'd all seen. No, lots of people seemed to have resorted to acting like animals, or worse yet, like monsters. So not only was finding her again about a million times harder, but the things that could happen to her… he didn't want to think about it. There had always been crazy people out there who did horrible things, and unfortunately those types of people seemed to be the ones who were more likely to have survived the Turn.

It had all gone wrong with that damn trap she'd stepped in. They hadn't been able to keep running, because she hadn't been able to walk all that well after that. She'd been healing up as they holed up at that funeral home – it certainly had been lucky that they'd found it when they had. But like anything else that was good in the fucked up world they lived in now, it was too good to last. He just had to face it, nothing was going to go his way. It all just got worse and worse and now he was alone.

He'd thought that things were bad when it'd been just him and Beth – and they had been bad, of course. They'd lost so many people, and after he'd only just started _wanting_ to be part of a group, after a lifetime of wanting the world to leave him the hell alone… It was ironic, and completely fucked up. So now… he just couldn't see a point. No point in moving from the spot where he'd collapsed, because what was left? Nothing. No one. He had lost them all.

…

Before they'd left the man who'd been bitten by the walkers that Tyreese had helped to kill, that man had told them to follow the tracks. He said that it would take them to somewhere called Terminus. They'd seen the signs for Terminus along the tracks as well. It was supposed to be some kind of refuge, though really, who in their right minds, if they really had a safe place, would advertise their location for the world to see? It seemed like asking for trouble, especially having seen what The Governor and his group had done when they discovered her group living at the prison. Carol was wary of the idea that Terminus was what it said it was – a sanctuary.

Wasn't it just too good to be true? Would they be walking into a trap? There was no way to know for sure. But they had to do_ something_, go _somewhere_… Being on the run with the three girls, even with Tyreese… well, she just wasn't sure how long they could do it. The possible safety of Terminus was the only other option right now.

On their way to Terminus, however, the most amazing thing happened. Carol and Mika were out walking, away from the others so that Carol could talk to Mika about the reality of having to kill people, not just walkers. That was when the two of them came across a little house in a pecan grove that was absolutely perfect. After checking around carefully, it seemed to be completely undisturbed, so they headed back to where they'd left Tyreese, Lizzie and Judith to tell them the news. Mika was nearly bouncing with excitement, which was dampened immediately upon their arrival back at the spot where they'd left the others. Their friends were nowhere to be seen.

Carol frowned, but was determined not to panic. Not yet.

"Where are they?" Mika asked, suddenly looking both confused and terrified.

"I'm sure they're not far," Carol replied absently, her eyes scanning the trees all around the clearing. It was eerily quiet, and she couldn't help but fear the worst. She needed to keep Mika calm, though. Not seeing an immediate threat, she began to study the ground, looking for tracks. That was when she saw the imprints, partially hidden by leaves, in the soft dirt. If she was interpreting what she saw correctly, something had happened. Maybe walkers had wandered through the area… at least, she _hoped _that it had been walkers that wandered through. The living had become more frightening that the dead. At least with walkers, you knew what they wanted. There was no questioning their motives.

She took a deep breath to steady herself, and looked at Mika. "There's tracks here. We can follow them," she told the girl. No sense telling her about her fears about what may or may not have happened. Not unless it became necessary, anyway.

Mika looked up at her hopefully. "You know how to do that?" she asked in wonder.

Carol smiled in response, then said "Yes, I do." She paused for a second, seeing his face in her mind, allowing herself the luxury of a few seconds to think about him. It was a thought that she usually pushed aside because it just hurt too much. Her smiled turned sad as she added simply, "Daryl taught me." She felt the same tug at her heart that she always felt when his name or his face ran through her thoughts. But there was no time for that now. They had to find Tyreese, Lizzie and Judith.

"You have your gun?" Carol asked quietly, her smile disappearing. It was time to be serious. Mika just nodded. "Take it out so you're ready, just in case," Carol instructed her softly, and Mika did as she was told. "Alright, come on. This way," Carol whispered, staying slightly in front of her just in case they ran into trouble. She kept her eyes on the ground, following the path their friends had taken. They seemed to have woven through the trees a bit, and then had taken off in a straight line for a longer stretch, before zigzagging abruptly. Carol could hear some sort of noise ahead, but couldn't tell identify it, so she stretched out her arm in front of Mika as she slowed her pace so that the girl wouldn't get in front of her.

They crept forward slowly, silently, as Carol's senses strained for some clue as to what was going on. Then, without warning, a walker lunged at her from her left side. The stink of decay hit her immediately, filling her nostrils as its arms flailed to claw at her. In less than a second, her left arm shot out to knock the walker back for just long enough for her to use her right hand, which had been extended in front of Mika, to knock the girl away from her. As soon as Mika was out of the walker's immediate reach, Carol then spun to face it, kicking it back a few feet with her left foot as she turned. The movement was so fluid, it could have been directly out of some sort of martial arts movie – not that Carol had ever seen one.

Now that the walker was knocked off balance, Carol lunged forward easily and sank her knife into its skull, as she had done so many times before. The walker fell to the ground with a _thump_ as she removed her blade from its head. Turning quickly to look around her, she saw no other walkers. That one had been alone, it seemed.

She then turned her attention to Mika, who had scooted herself backward as soon as she'd hit the ground, and was crouched beside a tree not far away. She didn't appear to be injured, which Carol noticed with relief. As her breathing slowed back down to normal, Carol walked towards the girl. "Mika, are you alright?"

Mika stood up slowly, nodding her head. She looked shaken, and with good reason. That had been a close call. "I'm fine. I was just… surprised," she replied quietly.

Carol walked over to her, and before she knew it the girl had thrown her arms around her waist. She could feel Mika's heart hammering in her chest, and she reluctantly put one hand on her back, stroking her hair with the other. It was so hard for her with the girls, but she loved them, even though it made her sad at the same time. After all, rejecting them wouldn't bring Sophia back, and it wasn't their fault that Sophia wasn't there.

"It's okay," Carol whispered. Then, after a minute or so had passed, she squeezed both of Mika's shoulders, pushing back gently. "Mika, we need to keep going." Mika nodded and released her hold on Carol, returning to her position slightly behind her on her right side, as she had been when the walker had pounced. They both avoided looking at the corpse they left behind as they continued.

It wasn't too much later that Carol began to wonder if the tracks they were following led in a circle. But what sense would that make? Why would Tyreese have done that? She couldn't figure out why, all she knew was that that's what the tracks were doing. With no better way to guess where they might be, she continued to lead them in the direction that she was almost certain was leading back toward where they started.

Just as she was expecting to be back at the beginning of their search momentarily, the tracks veered off sharply into the trees. _Why would Tyreese do that? _she wondered. He would have had Judith with him, and Lizzie of course, so going into dense woods was less than ideal. Still, there was no better way to guess where they might find them, so follow they did.

Despite being so far inside the dense woods, Carol could tell that it was going to get dark soon. Now she was really worried. They'd been keeping up a good pace, probably faster than Tyreese would have been able to go with Judith in tow, and yet now, several hours later, they still hadn't caught up to them. She was grateful that the trail hadn't gone cold. At this point, that would have almost certainly meant that they wouldn't be able to find them again at all. It was, however, getting darker by the minute, and it wouldn't be long before she wouldn't be able to make out the trail that she was following. Daryl had always been adamant that it did no good to go out tracking at night. It would do more harm than good, because you could lose the trail trying to navigate in the dark. They had to get as far as they could before nightfall.

"Come on, Mika, we're losing the light. Let's get as far as we can before it gets dark. We're gonna have to camp soon," she told her. She glanced back at Mika, who just nodded. She hadn't said much since the walker had jumped out of the trees at them. Carol picked up her pace, and when she glanced back she saw that Mika was still just behind her. She turned around and continued scanning the ground for their friends' tracks, which were growing faint. She was just about to give in and say that they would have to camp for the night, that they'd start looking again first thing in the morning, when a familiar scent met her nostrils. This was either going to be very good, or very, very bad.

Turning to Mika, she held her finger to her lips. Mika nodded, then they slowed down and crept forward so quietly that had he been there, Daryl may not even have heard them coming, outdoors expert though he was. Carol began to see the faintest light from not too much farther ahead, and she knew exactly what she was heading for. A campfire. The only part she didn't know was whether it would belong to their friends, or to someone they'd have to turn around and hide from. She hoped against hope that it was Tyreese and the girls.

She was afraid to leave Mika behind, though she didn't know if she was walking into danger, so the girl stayed on her heels until they were only just outside the small clearing where someone had made their campfire. Carol was just about to turn around and tell Mika to stay there and let her walk the last few feet alone, so that she could try to get a glimpse of the campfire's owner. However, before she had a chance to do that, she heard a familiar whisper saying "Tyreese… I heard something!" Her knees almost went weak with relief, and she grabbed Mika's hand and together they walked into the clearing by the fire, smiling broadly.

Tyreese was sitting on the ground a few feet from them, holding a sleeping Judith. Lizzie had sat up from where she'd been laying on the ground, not far from him. Upon seeing Carol and Mika, Lizzie jumped up and ran to hug her sister first, and then Carol. Tyreese stood up slowly, his smile a mile wide, as he tried his best not to wake the sleeping child in his arms. Using his free arm, he hugged Mika and then Carol in turn. When he moved back from the hug, Carol reached out to take the sleeping Judith from him.

"I think you could use a break," she told him kindly. She was just so over joyed to see them all alive and well, she was more than happy to take over watching the baby. "You all okay?" she asked simply. When he nodded, Carol exhaled with a smile, and replied, "Then go get some sleep. I'll take watch." He smiled gratefully, obviously exhausted, and just nodded. He laid down by the fire, a little closer now that he wasn't holding Judith, and was asleep almost immediately.

"Sleep, Lizzie," Carol whispered to her, and Lizzie nodded and laid back down obligingly. Carol turned to Mika, who was still almost glued to her side, just as she'd been for hours.

"Mika, it's okay honey. You should go and get some sleep too," she told her soothingly.

"Can I sit with you? Just for a little while?" Mika asked in a small voice. Carol smiled at her and nodded, as she sat down on a small patch of grass nearby, her back against a tree. Mika sat down beside her, leaning her back against the tree and her head against Carol's shoulder. It was a large tree, but not so big that they could both have their backs to it and be facing exactly in the same direction.

They sat like that for a few minutes without talking, before Carol grew concerned. She was fairly sure that something was on Mika's mind.

"Mika, what's wrong?" she asked gently.

Mika sighed and picked up her head, looking straight out into the darkness. "You miss him, don't you?" The girl's question caught Carol off balance and she looked over her right shoulder at her, slightly confused. Of course she knew who Mika was talking about. She just couldn't figure out how _Mika _knew that she missed him so much.

"Who, honey?" she asked.

Mika looked over her shoulder at Carol as if to say _Really? You're going to pretend you don't know who I'm talking about?_ Which was, of course, exactly what Carol was doing.

"Daryl, of course," Mika replied as if it was obvious. Carol felt her face flush a little – _Really? Blushing? At my age? I'm not a teenager! _She reminded herself – and just hoped it wasn't _too _obvious to Mika in the darkness. Carol tried to think quickly of the best way to respond. She took a deep breath before speaking, trying to steady herself. She felt more off balance by the girl's question that she had from the surprise walker attack.

"Of course I do. I miss them _all_," she replied wistfully.

"But him especially, right?" Mika was just not going to let this one go, Carol could tell. She stared at the girl beside her for a few seconds, trying to think of how to respond. She was obviously far wiser than her years would suggest, and it wouldn't do any good to lie even if she'd been so inclined. Which she wasn't.

"I do. I miss him especially," Carol said softly, nodding. Mika smiled, as if she'd won some sort of victory. "How did you know that?" Carol asked. She simply couldn't contain her curiosity.

Mika gave her a look that, if she didn't know better, was supposed to say something along the lines of _How can you even ask that with a straight face? _"It's just… obvious. The look on your face if his name comes up. Or… every once in a while when you're staring into space… I don't know, I can just tell…" She gave Carol a genuine smile, and then surprised her when she leaned over and hugged her.

"I told you," Mika said as she stood up, "it's like my mom used to say. _Everything works out the way it's supposed to._" She took a few steps, then turned back towards Carol. "I think you'll see him again… Good night, Carol."

Carol was stunned, but she managed to smile and whisper "good night" before Mika walked over to lay down beside her sister. She sat there, her back against the tree, trying to process what this little girl had just said to her. Not only what she'd said, but that she'd said it all so matter-of-factly, as though it was obvious.

_Was it?_

She shook her head unconsciously, and nuzzled her face against Judith's cheek, gently so that she didn't wake her. It was only when she leaned back and looked at Judith, seeing that the baby's cheek was wet, that she realized that she was crying.


	77. Stop

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but I like to think that it likes me as much as I like it. :)**

**Season 4, episode 14**

**Somewhere in the woods, Night**

It was late one night and everyone else was in bed. Carol sat at the table in the kitchen with a mug of tea steaming in front of her, alone with her thoughts. She felt as though she was watching the scene from outside her body, because nothing about the situation seemed real to her. The house. The lantern sitting in front of her, turned down very low to conserve what little fuel there had been at the house when they found it. The steaming mug of tea – after all, how long had it been since they had _hot water? _Even the table that the mug was sitting on felt like something from another lifetime. Surely, she must be dreaming, and any minute now she would wake up on the cold, hard ground somewhere in the woods.

The reason she was sitting at the table in the middle of the night was that her thoughts continued to run a million miles a second, preventing her from sleeping or even laying down to pretend to sleep. After everything they'd been through, all the time spent running, it felt good to be settled into the little house in the pecan grove. It was a relief to know that Lizzie, Mika and Judith had a safe place to sleep. It was a relief to have walls protecting them again. There was even a working gas stove, for however long it would last. Really, compared to what they'd been through, it was almost like heaven.

So why couldn't she relax?

There was an old saying that she remembered, that said that if something seemed to be too good to be true, it probably was. Well this place definitely seemed too good to be true, so maybe she was just subconsciously waiting for it all to go bad. It was inevitable, wasn't it?

Tyreese had articulated it pretty clearly when he'd talked about not being used to being in a house anymore. Despite the fact that until a few years ago – however long it had been since the end of the world as they'd known it – living in a house was the most normal thing in the world, since then the idea of such a luxury had become almost exclusively the stuff that dreams were made of. Sure, they'd raided houses, crashed in houses overnight, or even for a week or so when they got lucky on the road. They'd lasted quite a while at the Greenes' farm, but that had been different somehow, with so many of them there and one, albeit large, house. Their longest stay, of course, had been at the prison, but that never felt the same as being in a house. It had never been meant to feel like a home.

No, this little house in the pecan grove where the five of them had been for the past few days… it was the first house she'd been in in as long as she could remember that felt like a home. In some ways, as much as she hated to admit it, it felt like more of a home than the house she'd lived in with Ed and Sophia before the Turn. It was painful to admit that to herself… it felt like she was being disloyal to Sophia's memory. But the fact that that house had been shared with Ed, the monster from whom she had thought that she'd never escape… how could that ever have felt like a home? The simple answer was that it hadn't. To her, it had felt like a prison… which was ironic since she ended up living in a prison that had felt more like a home than that little house ever had.

At one point or another, each of them began to consider the possibility of staying at the little house in the pecan grove instead of continuing on to Terminus. Carol had initially discounted the idea, rejecting it outright, though not saying so out loud when the others had suggested it. How could she agree to give up on finding the others? How could she resign herself to never seeing the rest of their family again? It broke her heart to think that way. It felt like giving up.

The longer they stayed there, however, the clearer it became that they'd found something good in a world where good was almost unheard of. It had been a long time since they had been so safe, and that was something that, if they went back out on the road, they could not guarantee that they would ever find again.

It was a painful choice. If it had been just herself and Tyreese, it may never have been something they even considered. But they had three young girls with them, girls who deserved a safe place to grow up. It was hard to always be on the run with them, especially Judith. Lizzie and Mika were such good girls, they'd survived the loss of their parents, their lives, their _childhoods_… how could they also take away what could be their one chance at a safe and stable home, for however long it lasted? And for what? To try to find people who, though they loved them very much, could very well be dead already? To go back out on the road where they had been barely surviving day to day? How could she ask that of these poor children who had already lost everything?

As much as it killed her to think that they might never find the rest of the group, the more she thought about it, the more she understood that they needed to stay there in the house in the pecan grove for as long as they could. She couldn't do right by Sophia any longer, but she _could _help the three girls who were in her life now, give them something better than a life on the run. They may or may not make it, but how could she live with herself if she didn't do what was best for them? The answer was simple. She couldn't.

And so she accepted that what was best for them was to stay where they were. It didn't mean it would be forever, she told herself. On the contrary, every time she thought something would last these days, that was usually when it was ripped away from them the most brutally. It seemed to be just the way the world worked now.

She let out a sigh and sipped her tea, which was no longer hot, but still felt pleasantly warm in her mouth. If she wasn't careful, she knew where her thoughts would go. But having decided to stay in the grove with Tyreese and the girls, that just made it feel even worse to think about him. She tried to remind herself again that it didn't mean they would stay forever. Indeed, they'd be lucky if something didn't drive them out sooner than later. She knew that their reasons for staying there were the right ones… she just hoped that maybe someday, somehow…

_No, don't even think about it. About him. You just have to __**stop**__. _The voice in her head was absolutely adamant. She knew herself well enough to know that the voice was right. She had to stop letting herself feel it… but blocking out those feelings completely was a skill that she hadn't quite perfected yet.

Almost at the same moment that the voice boomed through her head, her feelings bubbled over, and suddenly her chest ached so badly that it felt like it might split open. This was exactly why she needed to stop thinking about him. She had lost the most important person in her world – _again – _and she just couldn't bear to go through it for a third time. First Sophia, and then Daryl, and now Daryl **again.** It wasn't fair, any of it. Not that fair had anything to do with it. It never had before, and it certainly didn't now.

She gulped down the rest of her tea, for just one second considering hurling the empty mug against the far wall. _It won't help_, she told herself, though she already knew. Steeling herself against the onslaught of emotions that had just momentarily possessed her, she took a deep breath, vowing to somehow make peace with the reality she was living in now, and not worry about the future. Of course, that was next to impossible, but she had to try. There was no other way to survive than to keep moving forward, after all. She thought back to Mika's words to her not that long ago… _Everything works out the way it's supposed to. _She had to believe that that was true.

Putting it all out of her mind for the moment, she stood up quickly and washed the mug out in the sink, then moved to straighten up the few things that the girls had left out; the doll that Mika had found in the cabin and named Griselda Gunderson, some bits of twigs that Judith had probably brought inside, and a sheet of paper where Lizzie had been doodling. She couldn't tell what the drawings were, looking mainly abstract, but she didn't see anything there that concerned her.

Once the room was straightened up, she padded softly through the house to check on the girls, then walked down the hall to the tiny room that had become hers. It was more than she needed, despite its small size. After all, what did she really have? Only what fit in her backpack. Not even that much, since most of what had been in her backpack were supplies for the others in her group, mainly the girls.

When she finally climbed into bed, she could see the moonlight filtering through the curtains at her window, and she sighed to herself in spite of her earlier promise. _No, _she thought quickly, catching herself before she got caught in a downward spiral, _I can do it. I've survived so many things that I never would have thought I could. I'm still here. I can't give up now. I'm strong, so much stronger than I ever thought I could be… _

She took a deep breath and steeled herself against her next thought, as if putting on armor to repel an attack on her willpower before allowing the thought to continue forming. _**They **__wouldn't want me to give up, especially not when I have people depending on me. _She wouldn't say their names, not even in her head, but she knew which two people she was thinking of. The only ones who had mattered most, who were among the vast number of people who she had lost.

_It's not over yet_, she told herself with a determination that she was only pretending to feel, just before she fell asleep. But pretend determination was better than none, and for now, it would have to do. After all, it would all work out the way it was supposed to.


	78. Finally

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but all I need is to play with the characters, anyway. **

**Season 4, episodes 15 and 16 &amp; Season 5, episode 1**

**The Middle of the Road, Day**

The Claimers had been first class assholes, the kind of people that Daryl and Merle may have fallen in with back in the day if things had gone a little bit different. But here, now, Daryl just found everything about them just… _stupid_.

Yes, he was glad that they hadn't taken everything he had and killed him, or left him for dead, after they'd surrounded him in the middle of the road in the spot where he'd collapsed after he'd lost Beth. But at the time, he really couldn't get himself to care all that much what they did to him, and that, ironically, may have been what saved him. The leader of the Claimers, Joe, kept looking at him like he was some sort of strange specimen, something so rare that he wanted to keep him around. Daryl was probably the first person Joe had ever encountered, at least since The Turn, who hadn't cowered in front of him and begged for his life. No, Joe, seemed to find Daryl intriguing, so he kept him alive and taught him "The Rules" of the group.

_Those goddamn fucking rules_, Daryl thought. _They didn't make no fucking sense. _Maybe in theory – the part about not lying and keeping your hands off other people's shit, but the claiming nonsense? Fucking ridiculous. Daryl knew that he wasn't going to stay with the group long term – he couldn't deal with their bullshit – but as Joe had pointed out, going off on his own just then didn't make any sense. He was with these assholes until he found a better option.

And then all of a sudden, just when he was about to leave, when he couldn't stand them anymore, Joe and the Claimers had Rick, Carl and Michonne on their knees. _Rick _was the guy they'd been following, who had killed Joe's friend? _Of course he was_, Daryl thought sarcastically. What the hell were the odds? Of course, Rick had killed people, not just walkers, since the Turn, so it wasn't as though it was impossible. But he didn't just kill them indiscriminately. Joe's friend, whoever he'd been, must have threatened Rick or someone else somehow… which one had he been? Unless, of course, Joe had Rick confused with someone else. Who the hell knew for sure? At that moment, it didn't really matter much.

Daryl wasn't quite sure how to feel about the circumstances in which he now found himself. On the one hand, he may never have found his friends if Joe hadn't been tracking them. On the other hand, Rick, Carl and Michonne were now in danger. _Fuck no_, he thought, and he'd offered himself up in their place. He'd called Rick a good man, and that was when things got ugly. Because Joe couldn't reconcile the idea that a "good man" would kill his friend, and in Joe's mind that made Daryl a liar. Being a liar was one of the big sins on Joe's list of rules, and suddenly Daryl, who'd been under Joe's protection up to that point, found himself being surrounded and beaten. At the same time, those assholes were threatening Carl and Michonne. It kinda seemed like that was it for them.

So when Rick attacked Joe by biting him in the throat, well, Daryl hadn't expected him to do that, but it didn't shock him. Not like it might have a long time ago. He was doing what he had to do to survive, for all of them to survive. They'd made it this far, after all, by doing exactly that. And that was when the tables turned. It was one of those times when he was really glad that Rick was on _his_ side.

And then there had been Terminus. All the signs claimed it was a sanctuary. _Sanctuary, my ass_. They were the _worst_ kind of people. At least with the Claimers, as fucked up as they were, they never tried to make themselves look like they were trying to help anyone. They were assholes, but thanks to Joe, they weren't liars. At Terminus, those fuckers had acted like everything was normal, a happy little community, and then they'd locked them all in a dark train car at gunpoint.

Absolutely the _only_ good thing that had come out of Terminus was that in that train car, they'd found most of their group, who'd already found out that Terminus wasn't what it promised to be. So they were together again, along with a few new additions, but, it seemed like they were kinda fucked. Then, just when things seemed to be bad, they got worse. Rick, Glenn, Bob and Daryl had been dragged from the train car and those fucking Termites tried to slaughter the four of them… _for food_. They were _fucking cannibals_.

It was only a matter of seconds before the two guys in plastic ponchos where about to slit their throats, and Daryl was pretty pissed off to admit that it looked like they were actually done for this time, that everything they had given up had been for nothing. That was when something had happened outside. They couldn't tell what, but it was something loud enough that it distracted the men just before they had slit Glenn's throat as he sat tied up beside Daryl. The noise was followed by an explosion that knocked them to the ground.

Something obviously hadn't gone according to their plan, and within minutes the four of them were out of their restraints and fighting their way out of that room. They fought through the smoke from the explosion and resulting fire, and the walkers, who were now pouring into the compound. They also dodged fire from the surviving residents of Terminus, who were heavily armed. Rick, Daryl, Glenn and Bob had reached the train car to let their people out, then the group had fought together as they made for the fence line. It was a miracle that they were all still alive, and it was definitely time to get the fuck outta there.

Back in the cover of the woods at last, they'd found the bag of guns that Rick had stashed. Rick had wanted to go full on commando and kill anyone inside Terminus who'd managed to survive this long. Everyone else, however, just wanted to get the hell outta there. Even if a few of them survived, they argued, Terminus was done. It was impossible for them to rebuild, everyone reasoned. They were weakened and on the run. "We got out. It's over," Glenn had said, and the others all nodded in agreement.

Daryl had watched Rick sigh in frustration. Both men wanted to believe that it was over, of course. But that just didn't seem to be their luck. It was _never_ over. That just wasn't how the world worked anymore. Sometimes there were brief respites from the battle, but this war would never be over, no matter how much they all wanted to believe that it would be. Daryl had always been loyal to Rick, even when he disagreed with his decisions, and he hadn't had a chance to fully decide whether he agreed with Rick or the rest of the group on this one. He could see Rick's point about being ruthless – they had to be to survive – but he also saw where the rest of the group was coming from. They didn't want to kill any more people than necessary, and more than anything, now that they were free, they just wanted to get the hell outta there. Both made sense. Both were tempting.

As Rick sighed, Daryl thought he heard something else, something almost inaudible. No, it was more of a feeling than a sound. He listened intently for a moment, hoping that it was an animal rather than another human being. He didn't want to have to choose whether to shoot someone or not at that moment, already being exhausted. The idea that they could already be in danger again… it was infuriating. He turned his head toward the sound.

Then, for a fraction of a second, he found that he couldn't breathe.

…

Carol and Tyreese left the cabin exactly as it was, taking only what they had had when they arrived there, plus a little bit of food to get them started. Neither of them could bear to stay in that house another minute, especially Carol. _What have I done? _she kept asking herself over and over. _What have I done? I __**am **__the monster I thought I was. _

Of course, logically she knew that it wasn't true. She knew that she'd had no other choice. And yet, once again, her "only choice" had been to kill another human being "for the greater good." It wasn't just that, though. This time, she'd killed a _child_. Not just a child, but _a child who she had sworn to protect as her own_. She was so numb now, she couldn't even process this. Not only had she now lost her own daughter to walkers, she had just lost two more. She had no business being around people. None whatsoever.

She had loved those children, all three of them, with everything inside her, and it had been for nothing. She had lost Sophia through her own weakness and inability to protect her, but the loss of Lizzie and Mika… While Sophia's death had cut her more deeply, having been her daughter by blood, in some ways this was so much worse. She was stronger now, and she _should_ have been able to stop it. But no, _she had let this happen_. If she had only managed to help Lizzie understand… she would not have killed her sister. And Carol would not have had to have killed her. _This is my fault, _Carol thought miserably._ Mine alone._

Of course, she _knew _at some level that this wasn't true, that _no one_ had understood just how out of touch with reality Lizzie had really been. Some signs had been there, of course, but she told herself that she couldn't have been expected to have put it all together, to have known what it all meant. _No one else_ had seen it, either. _No one _would ever have assumed that Lizzie would have been capable of something like that.

Still, something inside her insisted, _she _should have seen it. She had known them. They were like her own, even if it had been for a short time… and how could she not have known, have understood, her own girls? She couldn't defend it. It was her fault.

So though she told herself that she couldn't have known… when it came down to it, there was no one else to blame. They had been _her_ responsibility. Both girls were dead because of _her_. She had lost three now. How many more would she lose?

Carol looked miserably at the beautiful little girl strapped onto Tyreese's back. _Judith_. It was only a matter of time before she failed Judith as well. What horrible thing would befall this innocent child who had had the misfortune to have been born into the world as it now was, before she was ever had a chance to grow up and look out for herself? What kind of a future could there possibly be for this girl, especially with Carol around? She shuddered to think about it. She actually had to look away, back out at the trees, as she felt her chest ache.

_He would tell you to "cut that shit out." _The words suddenly popped into her head, and she shook her head to try to dislodge them. _He would tell you that it's not your fault, and you know it._

_But it __**IS **__my fault, _she countered frantically. _They are dead. Because of me._

_No, _the voice insisted, gently but firmly. _They are dead despite your very best efforts. It happens constantly now, and you know it. This world… it's not fair. People don't get what they deserve. Things just happen. The girls aren't the only ones that have died who didn't deserve it. __**None of the people you've lost**__ have deserved it, except maybe Ed. It doesn't change the fact that it happened, but it's not on you._

But she wasn't listening. The voice was going on and on, telling her the kind of things she imagined that Daryl would have told her, if he'd been there, and if he'd been the kind of person who'd been good with words.

Of course, he was neither of those things. She would probably never see him again, either. This voice in her head, the one she couldn't believe because it was telling her that it wasn't her fault when she _knew _that it was her fault… that was all that was left of him, all she would ever have of him for the rest of her miserable life, whether it was long or short.

Suddenly, it was as though she couldn't breathe. Her lungs constricted inside her chest, which suddenly ached intensely. No. It couldn't be true._ It couldn't be. _She stopped in her tracks, Tyreese taking only a few steps before realizing that she was no longer beside him. He turned and looked at her, saw that she was leaning over, her hands bracing against her knees for support, and seemed to be gasping for breath. He turned and walked slowly back to her. He could see that something wasn't right.

All she knew was that she couldn't stand up straight, and that she couldn't quite get air into her lungs. She'd been walking along, lost in thought, and then suddenly- _oh God…_ _There it was again. _She felt stabbing pain, but nothing was breaking her skin. It wasn't a bite, a scratch, or anything physical that was causing her pain. No, the pain was in the left side of her chest… in her heart.

She tried to breathe, but found that her lungs still weren't working. She gasped and wheezed, trying to take in oxygen, but it didn't seem to help. Tyreese stood beside her, saying her name softly, but she couldn't hear him. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, feeling her stiffen slightly for just a second. But she was too overwhelmed to fight, and he felt the muscles relax again as he squeezed gently. He continued to say her name softly, trying to reassure her, bring her back from wherever she had gone.

_If Carol has anything in the world, _Tyreese thought,_ it's plenty of reasons to fall apart._ He couldn't believe that she was as strong as she was, with everything she had been through. Most of the time it seemed like she was some sort of super-human. She held everyone else up, made decisions that no one should ever have to make… even when she made the wrong ones, he knew, she did it out of love for the group. Their group who they may or may not ever see again. He understood her pain, at least some of it, because he felt it too. The difference was, she was so much stronger than he was, which made it all the more difficult to see her in so much pain.

He was still reeling from her admission of killing Karen and David, and yet… he was no longer angry. There was an ache inside him that he would always carry, knowing what could have been with Karen, but it was not Carol that had taken her from him. Karen had been sick, that disease that had ravaged their group at the prison. It hadn't just passed on its own. Would she have recovered? There was no way to know. No, it wasn't Carol who had taken Karen, even if it had been her actions that killed her. This world, this horrible place that they now lived in, that was to blame. They were all just doing their best to remain human in a world that seemed bent on destroying what little goodness that was left in all of them. Carol couldn't see that goodness in herself anymore, but Tyreese could.

It took a minute before Carol was steady enough to stand up. She tried frantically to rewind her thoughts and figure out what was going on in her head, what had triggered her panic. She raised her head, still bracing herself against her knees for support, and looked up at Tyreese to find him looking at her with worry in his eyes.

"Carol," he said, his voice still soft with concern. "You okay?"

She just stared at him, her eyes haunted. "I…" she started, but no more words would come. He nodded sadly at her, pulling her into a hug with both arms.

"I know," he said simply. She stood still, unable to move, even to reciprocate the hug. Even so, she felt the crushing numbness in her bones thawing slightly as Tyreese continued to hold onto her. It was like being hugged by a giant teddy bear. She didn't move her arms, and her body remained rigid with tension. All she could do was to lean her forehead forwards until it fell against his extra broad shoulder.

After a moment she exhaled hard, raggedly, the pain that she held in so tightly threatening to erupt from her like lava from a volcano, burning her to ash. Tyreese didn't let go of her until a few minutes later when he heard her sigh as she lifted her head enough to look at him. The pain still burned in her eyes, but she was breathing again, almost normally. She truly was the strongest woman he had ever met, possibly even more so than Sasha, the sister who he wondered if he would ever see again. Despite the differences between the women, they reminded him of each other in a lot of ways. Carol was like another sister to him.

"Come on," he told her gently, stepping away from her and dropping his arms, taking a few steps forward and looking at her questioningly. Her eyes followed him, but she didn't move. She seemed frozen to the spot where she stood, and he wondered just what he could do to help her. She had truly passed the breaking point, but he hoped – no, he knew – that she could come back from it. _She_ just hadn't realized it yet.

He stepped back towards her, putting an arm around her shoulders. It was more for moral than physical support, since he was fairly sure that physically she could walk if only she could find the will. He squeezed her shoulder, urging her slowly forward, and finally they were moving again. "It's gonna be okay," he said, looking straight ahead of them, glancing around periodically for any signs of danger. He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince, himself or her, or maybe both of them.

…

They'd had the element of surprise when they'd come across the cabin. The man outside, who appeared to be setting something up in the yard outside of it, hadn't seen them coming. Even with just the two of them and Judith, they'd gotten him tied up and inside the cabin without too much trouble. Carol didn't want to leave Tyreese to watch both Judith, who was defenseless, and a man who would probably sooner kill them all than do anything else, but she had no choice. There was no way she was taking them into Terminus without knowing what was going on, especially with all of the gunfire they'd just heard. This was the only way she could get close enough to look while making sure the other two stayed safe. She just had to hope that Tyreese would be okay looking out for Judith while also watching the man from the Terminus group in such close proximity for long enough for her to get back to them.

Before Carol left the three of them in the cabin, Tyreese asked her how she was going to do this. Once again, he was in awe of her. He had known that her will to fight would return, and it certainly had. "I'm gonna kill people," she had replied grimly, and took off. It was astounding to him that this was the same Carol who not that long before had been so overcome by their circumstances, and with her own numbness to it all, that she had been able to walk forward on her own two feet alone.

And yet… _this_ was the Carol he knew. The one who faced problems head on and found a way to solve them, not make excuses, no matter how unpleasant the tasks that had to be accomplished might be. He could only hope that she would be okay, and that she would come back to them safely.

Once she left them, she had wasted no time. She had covered herself in walker guts. It was gross, but it was effective. She crouched behind the chain link fence at the border of Terminus, peering into the chaos inside. One of the first things she saw was Rick, tied up at his ankles, with his wrists tied behind his back, being dragged away. Several of the others lay on the ground, similarly restrained. It was then that she knew that she had to act fast. She had been right to be suspicious of Terminus, that it had been too good to be true. The others were alive, at least some of them, but they may not be for much longer if she didn't do something quickly.

…

In the aftermath of the explosion, getting into Terminus wasn't hard. Everyone had been caught off guard, the perimeter was breached, buildings had been damaged and some parts were on fire, and walkers were now flooding in. It could not have worked out more perfectly if she'd been able to plan it this way in advance. She took advantage of being painted in walker guts and walked in amongst the hungry herd as they wandered inside the walls, looking for clues to the group's whereabouts as she went. As soon as she was able, she slipped inside a building to try to find out more.

…

She now had Rick's watch in her pocket and Daryl's crossbow strapped to her back. The crossbow felt heavier than she'd expected, and she was surprised every time it bumped against the muscles in her back. Daryl had always made carrying it look so easy, as though it weighed almost nothing. Still, it was comforting to have it there on her back, even if it was strange to be carrying it herself.

Her mind could not process the fact that she had almost found them, had found one of the last places that Rick and Daryl had been. The question now was whether or not she was too late. She kept moving methodically. She had to be smart about this.

…

"The signs, they were real. It was a sanctuary…" the woman had told her. It made Carol sick to think that these people were sacrificing others, doing horrible things to them, just so that their own group could live. It was barbaric. She simply _had _to find Rick and Daryl before something irreversible happened to them, if it hadn't already. Carol felt no remorse when she let the walkers into the room, having shot the woman in the leg so she couldn't get away. The woman in front of her had felt no remorse at sacrificing so many others, and Carol felt a similar lack of remorse at leaving her to her end. _I'm a monster_, she thought as she left the woman there to die, _but I'll protect my family, whatever the cost to myself._

…

She had walked through the entire compound, and she hadn't found them. She stopped to check each body she could find to the best of her ability. There wasn't a single one of them from their group, to her immense relief. But where _were_ they? She knew that it was possible that the walkers had left no recognizable remains, but she refused to believe that that was the case. No, they were alive, and they couldn't be far. It was only a matter of finding them. She didn't know what she would _do _when she found them… but she had to be sure they were safe. She had to reunite Rick with Judith, Tyreese with Sasha, if she was with them. They probably wouldn't want her with them, and that was okay. She wouldn't want her with them if she were in their shoes, either. After all, she was a monster.

She went back to the fence and circled the perimeter, ending where it was breached. There, she left the inside of the compound and walked around the outer perimeter of the fence, methodically making larger and larger circles, listening, observing. Looking for the trail they would have left as they'd escaped. Finally, _finally_, she found it.

Approaching them slowly, silently, as he had taught her to do, she let herself move closer to them. She crept close enough to hear what they were saying, watched from behind Rick as he addressed the group, as they tried to decide what to do next.

Then her eyes landed on Daryl. _He was alive._ All of the thoughts left her head and her heart swelled painfully again. But she continued forward, one slow step at a time. When he turned and saw her, time seemed to stop.


	79. Overcome

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… is it February yet?**

**Season 5, episode 1**

**The Woods Outside Terminus, Day**

Rick had said that it wasn't over until every single person from Terminus was dead. How could their group possibly be safe if they left any of those monsters alive? But his logic fell on deaf ears. The others just couldn't accept something so hard and inhumane. There had been so much death already. _Too much_. They were just glad to be alive, after all. Rosita argued that it _was _over, pointing out that the place was _on fire_ and full of walkers. Abraham and Maggie both spoke up in favor of just leaving without killing anyone else as well.

The rest of the group remained silent, their silence giving unspoken support for what seemed to be unanimous opinion among everyone but Rick that they didn't need or want to kill anyone else, that it _wasn't _necessary to finish anything off that way, no matter how passionately Rick argued his case.

Rick sighed in frustration, knowing that if he acquiesced, it would come back to bite them later, but seeing no other choice. The rest of the group just refused to see reason. He was disappointed that Daryl, who hadn't actually voiced his opinion one way or the other, wasn't backing him up. This was rare, and he wondered if it meant that he could still sway him, if he could perhaps talk to him alone for a few minutes.

As Rick sighed, trying to figure out what to do next, a twig snapped nearby, so quietly that most of the group didn't hear it. Daryl, ever the most attuned with nature, was the first to turn. He was unsure exactly why he did, he just had a feeling. That's when he saw her.

_Carol_. In a split second, his brain was suddenly moving a million miles an hour. _Was it possible?_

As Carol took a few slow steps toward the group, Daryl stared for a second in disbelief. _But… it couldn't be true. Carol. Except… that it __**was **__true. She had appeared out of nowhere._

Carol stopped and looked at the group unsurely. This was her family… but so much had happened, and she had done such horrible things. Rick had banished her, and there was no guarantee he wouldn't send her away again. That kind of rejection a second time… she wasn't sure she could take it. She had wanted so badly to find them, mostly for the sake of Tyreese and Judith but also in what she told herself was a selfish way, for herself… but now that she _had_ found them, she didn't know what to do. What kind of reception would she get? Those seconds that she waited, frozen in her tracks, were agony.

Daryl looked at her in surprise, noticing that she didn't smile, just stood and waited unsurely. In that second, she thought that maybe this had all been a terrible mistake. Really, if it hadn't been for her desire to reunite Tyreese and Judith with Sasha, Rick, Carl and the rest of the group, she wouldn't have allowed herself to have been there in front of them at all. That was just how sure she was that they wouldn't forgive her, and how sure she was that she didn't deserve their forgiveness. No, she would have done everything in her power to make sure that they had made it out of Terminus safely, and then she would have disappeared again, avoiding this painful uncertainly and the chance that she would be rejected all over again.

_I don't deserve their forgiveness_, she thought, thinking sadly once again about what a monster she had become.

Before his mind could even form a coherent thought besides just to repeat her name over and over, Daryl took off at a run towards her, grabbing her in a tight hug with both arms. It seemed to her that one second, she was standing and looking at him uncertainly, and the next second his arms were around her, holding on tight. His relief at seeing her alive and there in front of him was so great that he was struggling to breathe, as he released choked sobs into her shoulder. His mind just kept repeating her name, over and over_. _He was afraid that any second he was going to wake up and find out that this was all a dream, as he had other nights when he'd dreamed that he'd found her. But somehow this time what felt like a dream kept going and she continued to be there, breathing the same air as him.

Just when she thought he couldn't hold on to her any tighter, he did, lifting her up off the ground for a second. Carol saw Rick over Daryl's shoulder, and she watched him uncertainly. Despite the relief and elation that had flooded her when Daryl had scooped her up, she couldn't help but tense up all over again.

The rest of the group was stunned, standing and watching the reunion. Those who didn't know Carol were confused, but there wasn't one of them who wasn't moved. Whether they knew her or not, they could see that there was something very powerful happening before their eyes. Everyone who'd been with the group at the prison knew that Carol and Daryl had _something_ special, and that Daryl had been different since Rick sent Carol away. None of them had quite understood what it was, or how strong their feelings for each other were… but that wasn't a surprise, because Carol and Daryl hadn't understood either of those things either. Now, however, after all this time and so much heartache, their first reaction to seeing each other again so unexpectedly clarified things, if only just a little.

Daryl's hug spun Carol slightly, so that she wasn't looking at Rick anymore. She leaned into Daryl, allowing herself to feel relief and happiness that she hadn't thought she would get another chance to experience. She was absolutely sure that she didn't deserve to feel the way she did at that moment, but she just couldn't stop herself. Was this really happening, or was it a dream? It didn't seem possible, after all this time and after steeling herself against the nightmare of the world in which they now lived, that she could feel like she mattered to someone. She hadn't thought that she would ever feel it again.

Rick began walking forward slowly toward the two, not wanting to interrupt, but unable to wait much longer to greet the woman who he knew that he'd wronged. She had been his friend, and he had basically sentenced her to death. Except that she hadn't died, she'd survived. Carl and Maggie followed behind Rick, also impatient to greet Carol. The others remained where they were standing, either in surprise or, for those who didn't know who she was, confusion.

Carol and Daryl were oblivious to the stares, their emotions threatening to overcome them. After several intense minutes, they finally let go and stepped back just slightly to look at each other, breathing heavily at the volume of feelings coursing through them. It still seemed unreal.

Suddenly, Daryl's face threatened to break. This alone spoke volumes about how he felt, more than any words could have, considering the tough exterior that he always wore to mask his emotions from the world. Carol was the only one he had let himself be vulnerable with, and at that moment, she was the only one who mattered. Unable to stop himself, his head fell forward into her shoulder. He was completely overcome.

The gesture, and the fact that she was watching his emotions brimming over, took her breath away. Her hands came up around his cheeks, moved down to his neck, then she very reluctantly released him as he stood back up again, trying to regain his composure. He had never before known the sensation of being so happy that he cried… not until now.

Rick approached them, and Daryl took a step to the side as Carol and Rick faced each other unsurely. Daryl had no idea what was going to happen between the two of them, so he stood ready to intervene. Not that he thought that either of them would physically attack the other, but he knew that there was a lot of baggage between them. He stood only a few steps away, feeling intensely protective of Carol. After all, he'd just gotten her back and he'd be damned if Rick or anyone else was going to do _anything_ to jeopardize her presence.

Rick, however, just looked at Carol, stunned. When he spoke, his voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Did you do that?" Carol pursed her lips and tried to nod, but couldn't bring herself to move. She had a flashback to the last time Rick had asked her almost the same question.

_Did you kill Karen and David? _The words had haunted her since then. Yes, she had done it, there was no denying it.

_Did you do that? _It was a simple question, with the same answer. Yes, she had done both things, and both for the same reason: to save her family. _Would he understand that now?_ She didn't know what to expect from him.

And then Rick hugged her, and her uncertainty was washed away in a flood of relief. Maybe, just maybe, he _did _understand. Daryl watched unsurely as Rick put his right hand on the back of Carol's head, his left at the base of her neck and closed his eyes. _The group's forgiveness is more than I deserve, _she thought.

_It's __**not **__more than you deserve, _the voice in her head that had fought to tell her that she was _not _a monster, the one that had long since been rendered silent, told her. _It's __**exactly**__ what you deserve._

Carol couldn't hold back her emotions anymore, and she began to cry as well. After having been sent away for the group's protection, after telling herself for so long that these people were better off without her, now that she was finally with them again she remembered just what she had been denied for so long. Oh, how she had missed them.

Daryl stood a few feet away, watching, still in awe that she was there, relieved that Rick didn't seem to be angry with her any longer. Daryl watched Rick's every move, as the group leader's hand moved down from Carol's head so that his arms made a circle around her shoulders. He whispered "thank you" into her shoulder, shaking slightly. Finally he released her, and Carol suddenly remembered one of the biggest reasons she'd sought them out from the beginning. _Judith_. It was time for their reunion. She looked at him and said simply "You have to come with me." Rick just nodded, releasing his hold on her and stepping back.

Before they went any farther, Carol turned around to where Maggie and Carl were still standing, a few steps away, and quickly embraced each of them, her tears falling anew as they each said a few happy words to each other. _Oh, how I've missed these people_, her mind repeated over and over. Then, the remaining members of the group with whom she was acquainted each walked forward quickly for their turn to welcome her back. Finally, Abraham stepped forward and introduced the rest of them. Rick and Daryl watched the exchanges from the sidelines.

With her hellos finally said to everyone, her eyes came to rest on Daryl. She couldn't help but look at him, still not sure she could believe that he was real, and still the slightest bit afraid that all of this was too good to be true. After all, no one but Tyreese knew what she had done in the grove. Would it change their opinion of her, _his _opinion of her, make them remember once again that she was a monster, if they were to learn the truth? She simply couldn't think about that now, overwhelmed as she was.

There were so many things that she wanted to say to Daryl, but just then there were two things that she knew for sure. One of them was that the most important thing that she had to do at that moment was to finish reuniting her group, and the other was that no words would ever truly express what she was feeling. And yet, seeing the glint in his eyes when he looked at her, she had the feeling that she didn't need to explain it to him.

Her eyes were still on Daryl alone as her mouth turned up into a small smile, despite the tears on her cheeks and the conflict in her heart. His face, having returned to his usual impassive expression after his initial outpouring of emotion, softened a little in reply to her smile. He slowly walked toward her, following her lead as she turned to take them to their other surprise back at the cabin, hoping against hope that Tyreese and Judith were safe.

Daryl didn't know where Carol was leading the group, but at that moment it didn't matter at all. He couldn't help feeling like he would follow here anywhere, if only he was allowed to be by her side.

Leading the way down a dirt road, Carol and Daryl walked side by side, several feet apart. They glanced up at each other repeatedly, exchanging knowing looks, but said nothing for several minutes. There were so many things Daryl wanted to ask her, to tell her, but the words were bottled up in his head, all so desperate to come out at once that none of them could make it. He'd never been good with words, after all. The rest of the group walked behind them in twos and threes, wondering where in the world Carol was taking them.

Finally, Daryl managed to mumble, barely loudly enough for Carol to hear, "You ok?" It was a stupid question, he knew it as soon as the words left his mouth. It didn't really ask anything, and even if she answered it wouldn't tell him anything. Still, the most important thing to him was that she was ok, so asking it had made sense, at least in his head.

She looked at the ground ahead of her for a few seconds with a pained expression, considering how _not _okay she had been since Rick had banished her, and even before then. When was the last time when she could honestly say that she _had _been okay? It was almost impossible to remember anymore. She considered lying to him, but knew that it wouldn't do any good. He'd always been able to see right through her. Hell, her reaction to his question was probably already answer enough.

Without lifting her eyes from the ground, she shook her head sadly, whispering, "I'm trying to be. I just don't know how anymore." Glancing up at him slowly, she was surprised to find that he was looking directly at her with an expression that she couldn't quite identify. He just nodded seriously, and they both looked away, back at the dirt road ahead of them.


	80. Forget

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… having three kids is enough for me, I could never keep track of so many people! :)**

**Season 5, episodes 1 and 2**

**The Woods By A Small Cabin Outside Terminus, Day**

The reunion had been beautiful, exactly as she'd hoped that it would be. Apparently Martin had given Tyreese trouble, and he and Judith _had _been in danger while she'd been gone, but in the end, they were safe, and that was all that mattered. As she had stood and watched Rick and Carl embrace Judith and Tyreese hug Sasha, she couldn't help but think that _finally_, something had gone right for a few of them. Finally, they'd gotten to see happiness and joy amongst their family. Joy was almost nonexistent for any of them anymore, and there were quite a few among the group who shed a few happy tears to see this reunion.

Carol told herself that she had no right to be selfish. She had just had her own reunion with Daryl, and it had been far more than she'd dared to let herself hope for. Far from the way she had feared things would have gone, he had all but thrown himself at her when she'd appeared. He didn't hate her after all. He hadn't seen the monster that she saw in herself. Of course, she didn't know how much of the story he knew, and he didn't know what had happened in the grove… she let all that go for the moment, knowing that it was short lived. Eventually he would find out, and then…

He had walked beside her at the front of the group as she led them to the cabin where she'd left Tyreese and Judith, knowing that she was either leading them to an even more important reunion, or the deepest possible heartbreak. Daryl hadn't asked any questions of her, just followed her lead. She did not deserve this man by her side or the happiness that she was afraid to let herself feel at finding him again, and she knew it.

And yet, standing there watching Rick with Carl and Judith and feeling joy beyond measure that she and Tyreese had been able to save the little girl and reunite her with her father, she felt a pain in her heart nonetheless. Try as she might to ignore the same pain that she had trained herself to push aside for so long now, she just couldn't get rid of it completely. She supposed that she never would, and she was simultaneously glad for this and frustrated by it.

Never in a million years did she want to forget the beautiful daughter that she'd lost what seemed like a million years ago… but at the same time, remembering her, especially at moments like this, was so painful that it felt as though someone was ripping her heart from her body. She'd become frighteningly good at disconnecting from her feelings, and yet, she didn't suppose that this pain would ever completely leave her. It would be so much easier if she _could _stop feeling it… but if this pain was the cost of her memories, then she would accept the pain rather than ever forget Sophia.

She became aware that Michonne had come to stand near her as she stood watching Rick, Carl and Judith. If there was anyone else in the group who could understand Carol's heartbreak in that moment, it was the woman now standing beside her. Like everyone else, they watched the little family reunion with smiles on their faces, and yet, when they happened to glance at each other, the pain of a mother who had lost their child was there in both of their eyes. The fact that they were each feeling it allowed them to spot it in the other. There was nothing for them to say about it, nothing that could be done about something so horrible that had happened long ago. No actual acknowledgement was necessary beyond the almost invisible twitch in each of their faces when their eyes met. There was understanding between them that no one else could give them, and while it didn't erase the pain, it was better than standing there and feeling it alone.

After a brief rest by the cabin, it was time for the group to move again. Now that Rick had been reunited with Judith, he seemed to have forgotten about, or perhaps given up on, the idea of killing whoever was left at Terminus. Without the support of the group, it would have been nearly impossible anyway. So instead, they focused on their next task, which was simply to get as far away from the scene of what could so easily have been the end of all of them as possible. They left the area as they had come, on the railroad tracks – albeit different ones. As most of the group walked single file between the metal bars that ran along the ground on each side of them, Carol and Daryl walked side by side inside the space without a second thought, right in the middle of the group. They were close enough to touch, but didn't.

Daryl, for one, liked having her beside him amongst the others, not on the fringes of the group. There was something he kept seeing in Carol's eyes, something unfamiliar. She was there, but not quite… there. Not quite the same. He was afraid that if he took his eyes off of her, she'd slip away, so he felt better walking beside her surrounded by their family. She had to know that if she left, he'd be able to track her, that he wouldn't just let her leave… and yet, she had that look in her eyes, the one a deer sometimes had when it was about to bolt. He'd never seen that in her before, and it worried him.

Of course, none of them could be expected to be the same, not even the same as they'd been back at the prison, though in reality they hadn't escaped from there all that long ago. The things they'd seen since then, the things _she'd _seen since then especially, they were sure to change a person. The changes in her eyes were unsettling, but not unexpected. The most important thing was that she was beside him, in the flesh, and that he had another chance to try and help her. Another chance to keep her safe, and maybe, if she was willing to let him, to help her work through whatever it was he saw in her eyes.

He made sure to keep her in his peripheral vision at all times, and to glance at her frequently. They walked on without speaking, as they had so many times before. It wasn't uncomfortable, but like the look in her eyes, it felt different than before. The energy coming off of her was just… _different_. It only made him watch her more carefully, trying to figure it out.

She knew that he was watching her relentlessly, and that she wasn't fooling him. Even before she'd found them, she'd known that when - _if - _she came back to the group, she'd be able to fool all of the rest of them, but not him. She could feel his eyes on her even when he wasn't looking directly at her. She liked it and hated it at the same time. It was comforting, even calming, to feel cared about like that, and yet simultaneously stressful and terrifying, to think that eventually either he would find out all the things she was hiding, or she would have to tell him. Or would she? Could she avoid both options? It would mean pushing him away… but it would mean she would never have to see that look on his face… the one that showed his disgust with her.

_You're being ridiculous_, she told herself. _He has never given you a look like that before. What makes you think he would start now? What makes you think he'd be anything but understanding, the same way he has always been?_

_Because of what I did, _she protested insistently. _I __**killed **__a child. There's no forgiving that. How could there be?_

_Tyreese doesn't think you're a monster, and he knows what you did._

She just shook her head against the voice in her head, refusing to hear its logic. _No, I can't take the chance. _

Either way, what would he think of her? Surely he wouldn't be able to accept what she'd done. Whatever he knew about her already, surely the things that he still didn't know would be too much. It was still too much for _her_, after all.

_But you're harder on yourself than anyone else is!_ the voice shouted in vain. It was no use. She was with the group, but it felt wrong. She wanted to be there… no, she wanted to _want _to be there, but she just didn't know how long she could do it.

They kept walking, and he kept watching her. She kept her eyes forward, trying not to think.

When they stopped for the day, road weary and emotionally exhausted, most of the group wasted no time in setting down the few things they had and making a small camp. Daryl watched Carol like a hawk as she surveyed the group, keeping her bag with her and walking slowly among them, exchanging a smile or a word here and there. She appeared to be looking for something, and Daryl was afraid that that something that she was looking for was a way out. He set down everything except his crossbow beside a nearby tree, and continued to stand and watch her as she approached Tyreese. She said something to him, then the two of them began walking through the camp to collect as many water bottles as they could carry in their bags before going in the direction of the stream they'd seen a few minutes before.

He didn't like that Carol was out of his sight, but she wasn't alone, so for the moment he let it go. The sun would be setting soon, and he'd likely either help take watch that night, be up early to go hunting, or both, so he settled down against a tree at the edge of the group, away from their chatter, and closed his eyes to try to sleep.

As tired as he was, he doubted he'd be able to sleep. The events of the day had left him exhausted and yet, completely wired. When he'd woken up that morning, he never could have imagined any of the things that would have happened. _Terminus. Carol reappearing. The group, now bigger, reuniting_. Not everyone had been found, of course… he thought guiltily of Beth, and felt a pang of sadness, wondering if they'd ever see the girl who'd been like a little sister to him again. As usual, he was more exhausted than he'd been willing to admit to himself, and it wasn't long before he fell into a fitful sleep.

Carol had thought that going to collect water with Tyreese would give her a break from Daryl's constant monitoring. It did accomplish that goal, however, she didn't feel much better around Tyreese, just a different kind of… she didn't even know what she was feeling, really. With Tyreese, who knew everything she'd done and had offered her nothing but forgiveness, the weight of what had happened in the grove hung heavy over their heads. _Too heavy_.

Carol couldn't bring herself to speak, and when Tyreese did, it was to tell her that some of the others knew what she had done at the prison – he mentioned Daryl and Maggie by name – and he told her that he would talk to the others, and make them accept what she had done. She hadn't said a word or looked up at him at all until that moment, she'd just focused on filling the water bottles in the cool water of the stream, but then she looked directly at him and told him, "They don't have to." _On the contrary_, she thought, _I don't expect them to accept it. _

_You just want an excuse to leave_, the voice in her head told her accusingly.

She pushed the voice aside, not answering the accusation. She hadn't stopped to consider that possibility, but she couldn't deny that it might be true.

"No," Tyreese insisted. "They do. They just do."

Carol stared at him for a moment, not understanding why he was so adamant about this, then looked down. She didn't know what made him feel so strongly about it, she only knew that she felt equally strongly that nothing could _make_ them accept what she'd done. Tyreese's forgiveness had been unexpected, and it had been a relief, but it didn't wipe away the way she felt after being banished. Not even the reunion with the group and apparent acceptance by Rick could do that. She'd simply been torturing herself for too long for any of it to matter.

"We don't have to tell them about the girls," Tyreese told her next, breaking the silence between them. "I don't want to."

Carol looked back up at him intently. "Why?" She didn't exactly want to talk about it either, but she wondered what made him feel so strongly about it that he was saying it out loud then.

"I just want to forget it," he replied sadly.

She wondered in her head whether it was possible to forget completely what had happened without also having to forget Lizzie and Mika as well. It was the same problem she'd been struggling with for so long with Sophia. Could you forget the pain without also forgetting the children that you loved, whose loss was the reason for the pain? Or was the pain the cost of remembering them? She said nothing, understanding his need to forget, but unsure that she was capable of it. She'd succeeded in numbing herself, but forgetting? That was different.

Not knowing what else to say, she stood up and began gathering the water bottles. Tyreese did the same, and they walked back to their camp in oppressive silence. She'd thought that it would be a relief to be around him, since he knew everything. In reality though, she felt the weight of it all pushing down on her harder, on the two of them. She didn't have to pretend, but their shared experience was heavier than she'd remembered it being before they'd found the others. Maybe being with the group had changed things, or maybe it was simply her perspective that had changed. Whatever it was, she was almost relieved when they reached the very camp that she'd been so desperate to leave only a little while earlier.

With a quick glance and a knowing look in Carol's direction, Tyreese walked past her as she came to a stop at the edge of the camp, and he wandered off toward Sasha. Knowing that when she didn't have a task, her mind wandered dangerously, Carol decided to stop it before it started. She had a bag full of water bottles, so she opened it and walked through the camp handing them out. Most people were sitting or laying quietly in groups of two or three, talking quietly or, in Daryl's case, as she noticed, already asleep. She offered water to them until her bag was empty, except for the one that she'd saved for him.

She'd planned to sit the water bottle beside him and then keep walking – maybe right out of camp, or maybe not – but when she leaned down and set it on the ground beside him, she suddenly had a flashback to the first time he'd brought her a bottle of water so long ago. Something so simple suddenly took her crashing back to before they'd known Sophia's fate, before the farm or the prison or so many other things… It all flashed before her eyes in a matter of seconds as she crouched there, frozen in front of him, the memories bombarding her and overloading her senses.

His eyes opened then, and she became aware of just how close she was to him. He looked at her intently, not smiling, now frowning, the same quiet look that had seen her through so many things. He didn't move, just sat looking at her. The look was familiar, comforting… and yet, because it reminded her of how well he knew her, it was terrifying. She felt herself lean back so that she wasn't quite so close to him, but she didn't move away completely, didn't stand up, didn't walk away the way part of her wanted to. He just kept watching her, as if he was searching for something. She couldn't imagine what in the world he was looking for.

Finally, just when she was about to stand up and walk away – though she had no idea where she would go – he shook his head slightly. "Y'ain't goin' nowhere," he said quietly. She wasn't sure how he'd known that that was what she was thinking, but she realized that it shouldn't surprise her. Her eyes asked the question that she didn't articulate, and he just looked at her stubbornly. "You're stayin' right here. Get used to it."

She wanted to smile then, wanted to feel… what? Gratitude? Affection? Hope? All of those things or some of them, or something else altogether? And yet, she felt… nothing… empty. Her chest ached as she looked at him, wishing she had it in her to feel… something. _Anything. _She just looked back at him, unable to say or do anything except to move from crouching to sitting flat on the ground in front of him and looking resignedly down at her hands. Suddenly she didn't even have the energy to stand up and walk away, as much as part of her wanted to.

He'd been watching her since the moment he opened his eyes, almost unblinking, willing her to stay, but knowing that she was battling something inside of her that she wasn't ready to talk about, maybe wasn't even ready to think about. As relieved as he was that she was really there, the haunted look in her eyes left him terrified of what she could have been through by herself in the time since Rick had banished her from the group back at the prison. He didn't know what the right thing to do or say was, and he knew that he sucked at this kind of thing, all he knew was that he had to stop her from leaving. He would not, _could not_, accept losing her again.

After enough time had passed that she figured he must have closed his eyes and gone back to sleep, since darkness had begun to fall around them, she looked back up to find him still looking at her with the same expression as usual. Not insistent, not pleading, but a look that told her that he wasn't giving up. Or at least that's what it said to her. Her mouth curled slowly into something that was almost a smile then, and she shook her head in mock surrender, turning and scooting so that she was leaning against the tree inches away from the one he had leaned himself against. Once she stopped moving, she turned her head and looked at him, her eyes daring him to say something about her capitulation.

He just raised his eyebrows at her slightly, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Shut up," she told him, pretending to be annoyed.

"Didn't say nothin'," he replied innocently.

Without a word or a change in her expression, she turned around and stared forward into the night, feeling his eyes still on her and unable to decide how she felt about anything, or even _if _she could feel any particular way about anything, anymore. Gradually, her eyelids grew heavy and finally her mind stopped spinning as exhaustion took over.

He watched her stare into the dark and wondered where she had gone, what she was flashing back to. They'd always had a connection that couldn't be explained, but now… he couldn't seem to reach her. He couldn't tell if she was fighting to maintain the connection or fighting to break it, only that she was fighting a war inside her, and that there didn't seem to be any way to get through to her. All he could do was try and be there when she came back from wherever it was that she went in her mind, and hope that he hadn't lost her, _again_, despite the fact that she was sitting right in front of him.

For tonight, she was here. Tomorrow, well, tomorrow would be another day.


	81. Instincts

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… it's just fun to pretend.**

**Season 5, episode 2**

**The Woods, Night**

Daryl woke up early, just before the first light of dawn. He'd been going out hunting when day broke nearly every day for so long now, he didn't even have to try to wake up early. Most days his body just woke up naturally. He didn't even remember having fallen asleep, but he must have, because he remembered the dream he'd had. It had been like torture, and he found that as he slowly shook himself awake, he had to take deep breaths to push the images away.

In his dream, he'd been awake, leaning against that same tree beside Carol where they'd fallen asleep in real life. He'd been watching her when suddenly she'd stood up, looked back at him sadly, then just started walking away. He'd called her name, but she had acted as if she hadn't even heard him, hadn't turned around or acknowledged him in any way. He'd jumped up and started running after her into the trees, but he'd found that she'd disappeared without a trace. She'd walked away from them, from _him_, _right before his eyes_, and he hadn't been able to do anything to stop her. She _had _to have known what that would do to him! And yet, she'd done it anyway.

When he'd woken up, fresh out of that dream, he'd had to force himself understand that it had been just a _dream_. So when he turned to where Carol had been sitting when he'd fallen asleep and saw that she wasn't there… well, he panicked. All of a sudden he was jolted to his feet as if he was suddenly charged with electrical current, and looked around the camp wildly. It was still dark, and everywhere he looked, he saw everyone still sleeping peacefully. The fire had died down to almost nothing, and in its weak light he could make out Abraham on watch. Otherwise, no one else seemed to be awake.

He grabbed his crossbow and started walking toward the opposite edge of the camp, his head swinging around quickly as he tried to take in all directions at once. Just as he was about to walk right by Abraham, he saw the other man motioning to him. Abraham then nodded his head off toward the far side of camp. When Daryl turned to look in that direction, he saw nothing at first. Looking back at Abraham questioningly, the man just looked back in that direction again and nodded his head. "Been sitting over there for almost an hour, I think," the other man told him, so quietly that he almost couldn't hear it. Daryl turned back in that direction again and looked harder, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness at the far edge of the camp where the treeline began.

Finally, he saw her there.

She was sitting on the ground, her shoulders hunched forward and her knees pulled to her chest as she stared into the darkness beyond their camp. He looked back at Abraham and nodded his thanks at him before walking slowly over to where Carol had situated herself, attempting not to walk quietly enough to sneak up on her but also not loud enough to wake anyone else up.

As he approached, Carol didn't move a muscle, didn't seem to register his presence at all. She sat stiffly, as if every muscle in her body was on high alert. She reminded him of a loaded spring just then, and he didn't dare go too close to her for fear that his presence alone would make her snap. He stopped when he was about five feet from her, making sure that he was squarely within the range of her peripheral vision.

Looking at her curiously, he waited for her to look at him. He waited for a long time, but she sat frozen, staring into the darkness. Finally, he crouched down by the ground, still not coming any closer to her, but now at her level.

"Carol? 'S wrong?" he asked, in a voice only just above a whisper. At first he couldn't be sure that she'd heard him, because she didn't seem to react, not even anything as small as blinking her eyes or turning even a fraction towards the sound of his voice.

He was beginning to wonder if he should call her name again when she whispered, still staring into the darkness, "I _can't_." He wanted to go closer to her to try to figure out what was wrong, but it seemed like at that moment, that would have been absolutely the wrong decision. As a matter of fact, it seemed that the longer he was there watching her, the more tension he felt in the air around her.

Finally, he retreated back toward where Abraham was still sitting, close to the rest of the group. Daryl stood beside him, then looked back at Carol. "Somethin' happen?"

Abraham looked up at him, then followed his gaze back to Carol. "Happen to Carol? No. She jumped up from over by you and looked like something spooked her. I hadn't heard anything, but I asked her and she said it was nothing." He shook his head, looking back at Daryl. "She didn't look like it was nothing. For a second she looked like she was thinking about just… taking off. Then she marched over and sat down there. Hasn't moved since."

Daryl just nodded at the man, then carefully picked his way between the sleeping figures on the ground, ending up halfway between where he'd fallen asleep and where Carol was currently sitting. He sat down cross legged so that he was facing where she was sitting. He'd go hunting in another few minutes, when the sun came up just a little more, but until then… he sat and watched her carefully. He could tell that she wanted space, but at the same time, he was more nervous than ever that she'd just disappear as soon as no one was looking. Or maybe, like in his dream, even if he _was _looking. He wished he knew what was going on in her head, and that she didn't seem so… desperate.

Before he left to go hunting, he stopped to talk to Tyreese. From the tired looks on their faces, he and Sasha appeared to have just woken up. Looking the other man in the eyes, he asked simply, "Ya know what's wrong with Carol?" Tyreese just looked at him for a few seconds before he slowly shook his head.

"I don't… I'm not… sure. A lot of things happened to her, out there." Daryl narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously.

"Like what?" he asked gruffly.

"She didn't want to say," Tyreese replied. Daryl couldn't help noticing that Tyreese wouldn't meet his eyes. He didn't quite believe him, yet, there weren't many people there he could trust.

"I'm goin' huntin'." He looked over towards where Carol still sat on the ground. "Ya keep an eye on her til I get back?" Tyreese looked at him, obviously confused.

"What're you worried about?" He asked Daryl quietly.

"That she'll take off," he answered honestly. Tyreese looked over at her and nodded slowly. Whatever he knew, he seemed to understand whatever was happening to Carol better than Daryl did. There was no point in standing around wondering, however. "Thanks," Daryl told him, and stalked off into the trees. Tyreese just nodded distractedly.

…

They were on the road again, having quickly consumed what little meat Daryl had managed to find that morning and a few berries from the trees. It wasn't much – it was never very much – but something was always better than nothing, and they made do. As everyone picked up their gear and got ready to move out, Daryl noticed that once again, Carol wasn't looking at him, wasn't speaking to him. Not that she was looking at or speaking to anyone else, either. She seemed to have retreated into her own little bubble. As he'd done so many times before, he watched her closely from a distance, but said nothing. He didn't have any more of an idea what was wrong now than he had early that morning, but she obviously wanted space.

Rick was at the front of the group as they set off again, Glenn and Maggie behind him, followed by Tara, then Carol, with Michonne and Carl behind her and the others in ones and twos behind them. Daryl was sufficiently satisfied with her position between several people that he could trust – Rick not among them when it came to Carol, of course – so he hung back at the back of the group, bringing up the rear behind Sasha and Bob. He regretted this position in the line not too long after they started, since he couldn't help but overhear some of their sickeningly happy conversations. He wasn't sure how the two of them could act so goddamn positive. It was a skill he supposed he'd never had, even before the end of the world.

Daryl continued to watch the members of the group in front of him, his eyes always returning to Carol. He noticed that while occasionally most of them turned to one another to exchange a word or two, or even a glance, she continued to walk silently, seeming either to ignore the others' presence or just not to notice it, despite them being all around her. The bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that had been there when he'd seen the look in her eyes, the one that had told him that she was thinking of running, returned with a vengeance. Was she just considering it, or was she actually planning it?

On they walked. After all, what else could they do? Their main goal was to get as far from Terminus as possible, so all they could do was to keep walking. He was so distracted by worry over Carol that he almost missed it. It wasn't so much a noise or something he saw as it was a… a feeling. He looked around quickly in all directions, holding his crossbow ready, but he saw nothing. His instincts, however, told him that there was something wrong, and he knew better than to ignore his instincts.

…

He'd told her that it was nothing, after he'd jumped up and stared out into the darkness, then walked back to stand by her. In a way it was the truth. There was nothing concrete there, not that he could see or hear. Still, he couldn't get rid of that _feeling_. It was the same one he'd had earlier when he'd been walking at the back of the group. Despite his sharp as his tracking skills and his ever alert senses, he couldn't find any reason for feeling the way he was feeling… and yet, without seeing or hearing anything that he could prove, or even explain, the feeling of foreboding kept coming back. Someone was out there, and it was essential that he stay alert for danger.

Daryl had said that it was nothing, but as Carol watched him, momentarily stepping out of her own head and the thoughts that swirled angrily inside, she could see that it was far from nothing. Daryl was worried about something, something that seemed to be nearby. After all this time, she knew Daryl. Yes, he was usually quiet unless he had something to say, but this was different. Maybe someone else wouldn't have noticed, but Carol had experience with all of his various quiet moods, and this one worried her. They sat back down against the same trees that they'd leaned been against before he'd jumped up, but she could see that he was now on high alert.

What she'd said about wanting to forget… she still wasn't quite sure if that was exactly what she wanted. She'd been trying to wrap her mind around it since before Tyreese had said so himself, and she was not much closer to understanding it all. _No, _she thought_, maybe what I need isn't to forget, it's just that I need not to feel it. That would be easier to do, wouldn't it? _

Making herself forget… she wasn't sure that she could. Forgetting the pain seemed impossible without also losing the memories. But isolating herself from the pain, compartmentalizing it and locking it away? Hadn't she been doing that already for many years, since the days with Ed? _Yes, that much I know that I can do_, she told herself resignedly. _I just can't let myself feel it. Then it can't hurt._

Whatever it was that was bothering Daryl, she knew that he wasn't going to tell her unless he decided to. He was stubborn like that – much like her. She still didn't know how long she'd stay here in the group – she'd contemplated leaving that morning, but somehow hadn't been able to bring herself to do it. Now, sitting beside him in the darkness, she wondered if that made her weak, or if it was a show of strength to stay when everything inside her wanted to run.

It felt as though her brain had been rewired and the signals had all been crossed. She wanted to go, she wanted to stay, she wanted to spare the group her presence but wanted to help them, all at once. It was a lot of sort out – too much. As her eyelids fluttered closed against her will, she couldn't help but feel like, not for the first time, she was drowning in her own mind.


	82. Dawn

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… I only hope to have such a brilliant idea one day!**

**Season 5, episode 2**

**The Woods, Dawn**

After another fitful night, Daryl woke up before the sun, as usual, to find that once again, Carol had already abandoned the spot leaning against the tree beside him where she'd fallen asleep. He was worried about her. Since she'd been back with the group, she'd barely been eating, and apparently, not sleeping all that much either. He already knew that there were things that she didn't want to talk about, but they seemed to be eating away at her. It was as though every time he felt like he was getting through to her just a little bit, she backed up and built a new wall between them. It certainly wasn't something that he knew how to deal with, but he felt that he had to try.

He didn't manage to catch a glimpse of her until they were nearly ready to get on the road, when he came back from hunting. She was obviously trying to keep her distance from him, so he didn't try to crowd her. Instead, he walked at the front as the group ambled down the wide path that time, eyes peeled for danger. That feeling – the one where he swore that someone was watching them, though he couldn't find any evidence – was still with him. He'd already said something about it to Rick, but no one else. Glancing around frequently, he made sure to swing his gaze back toward Carol, ensuring that she was still with them. She was clearly preoccupied with something, but at least she was still with them.

…

No one trusted Gabriel, except possibly Carl. To the rest of them, he seemed like a coward, and no one could figure out how he'd survived so long on his own. When he said that he'd spent most of his time inside the walls of his church without coming out, that seemed like an explanation that made sense. Surely this weak, cowardly man wouldn't have lasted long on the run. Still, he had a church, which he led them to, and after clearing it for themselves, the group decided that at least for the time being, it was safe for them to stay there. After all, it was better than sleeping out in the open, especially what they'd been through at Terminus.

By the time they'd found the church, cleared it and searched it for usable supplies, everyone was ready to settle in for the night. With the luxury of a roof now over their heads for the first time in what felt like ages, most of the group was able to relax just a little. Rick seemed to have things under control, so Daryl went in search of Carol, who had been scarce since they'd arrived hours earlier.

She'd managed to find herself a good hiding place, and even in that small church, it took him quite a while to find her. He finally did find her in a tiny room – more like a closet, really – at the back corner of the church. She was leaning against the wall beside a small window that overlooked the land behind the building. In the past, it may have been a well-kept property, but by now, it was simply overgrown with plants of all shapes and sizes. When he came into the room, closing the door behind him, he was concerned to notice that she didn't show any sign that she'd heard him, not even the blink of an eye. He cleared his throat slightly, but still nothing.

Taking a step forward, he considered walking closer to her, but then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he stopped where he stood, just inside the doorway. "Carol," he said quietly, trying once more to get her attention. Once again, however, she didn't seem to hear him. At a loss, he stood and watched her, trying to decide what to do. He was no good at this shit – figuring people out, saying the right thing, knowing what to do for someone. If it had been anyone else, he may have left it to someone else to figure out what to do. But this wasn't someone else, this was _Carol_. And however bad at this he might be, there was no leaving it to someone else.

So instead, he stood there, four feet away from her, and wondered what exactly he should do. Finally, he settled on waiting for her, to see what _she_ would do. There wasn't much else to do anyway, and after all, she couldn't stand there forever. So he took a step back against the wall opposite her, just far enough over that if the door he'd come through opened, it wouldn't hit him in the face, took his crossbow off of his back and set it on the ground beside him, then sat down against the wall. He crossed his legs in front of him and just sat there, watching her, his eyes trying their best to see past her actions to the storm inside her, and wondering if she'd even noticed him yet.

It seemed like it should be impossible to be in such a small room with someone and _not _know that the other person was even there… but again, this was Carol. He'd seen the depths to which he could get lost in her own mind. Time ticked by slowly – not that time was all that relevant to them anymore – and the darkness deepened around the church, and inside the little room. There was no moon that night, only blackness. Carol continued to stare outside and Daryl continued to watch her, until he began to wonder if he would actually fall asleep waiting for her to move.

Just when he was beginning to wonder if he should try once more to get her attention, he heard her sigh. It was the first sign that she was a living, breathing person and not a statue that she'd given since he'd come into that room who knew how long before. She turned and flattened her back against the wall beside the window, then slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, knees in the air in front of her. Immediately hugging them to her chest, she curled tightly into herself. Daryl stayed where he was, against the opposite wall, just watching her without saying a word. Once again, he wondered what he should do.

After another few minutes of complete stillness, he decided he wasn't going to sit across from her any longer. Instead, he pulled himself quietly to his feet, picked up his crossbow from the floor beside him, and took the few steps across the room to the opposite wall, turning and sitting down in front of the window that Carol had stared out for so long, just beside her. He gently laid his crossbow on the floor on his left side, and positioned himself with his right knee in the air, his left leg extended. He sat close enough to her that their shoulders just barely touched, and his knee brushed her left one just the tiniest bit. He wasn't even sure why he'd sat so close to her, it just seemed like the right thing to do.

Even through that tiny amount of contact, he felt her stiffen at first, but then slowly relax again. If he didn't know better, he'd say that she may have leaned towards him just the tiniest bit. He'd taken a gamble that even that small amount of contact with the outside world, even if it was involuntary, might help to anchor her, help her come back from wherever she seemed to have gotten lost in her head. Doing anything more seemed like too much, so he sat and alternated between staring at the wall in front of them, and at her beside him. The silence between them stretched on, but it wasn't uncomfortable. On the contrary, as she seemed to relax ever so slightly, the air in the room became less and less tense. He couldn't help but think back to all the times since Rick had banished her when he'd have given _anything_ to have her beside him again, even just saying and doing absolutely nothing, like they were at that moment. No, the silence didn't bother him at all. People who talked for no goddamn reason had always bothered him far more than silence ever could.

They sat there that way until long after the faint hum of voices in the rest of the church died away, as the others finally surrendered to sleep. He thought she must have fallen asleep as well – and he wasn't far from it by then himself – when she slowly turned her head so that her right cheek was laying on her arm, and her face was towards him. He looked down at her, taking in the tempest that was clearly raging behind her eyes, wishing that he could think of something – _anything _– to say that would help. He couldn't even tell if she saw him there in front of her, even now. It was as though her eyes refused to focus on him. Even under the best of circumstances, words were not something that he was any good at, and this situation was no exception. So he just sat there and watched her, as he'd done so many times before, leaning against her ever so slightly and hoping that it would be enough just then.

At some point they had both given in to exhaustion and, whether or not it had been against their will, they had closed their eyes where they were and had fallen asleep. Once again, Daryl woke up just before the first light of dawn, when there was only the very faintest hint of color lighting the sky. He had leaned his head back against the wall behind him in his sleep, and he noted silently that his entire body ached from sleeping in a sitting position yet again. He blinked his eyes several times to adjust to the low light around him, and noted with satisfaction that Carol was still sitting there, her head turned towards him the same way she'd been sitting the night before. The only difference was that her eyes closed in sleep.

After the flood of relief to see her still sitting there beside him when he woke up, after so many mornings when he'd found that she had disappeared during the night, he especially hated to have to get up to go out hunting. Of course, there was no choice. The group needed food, and what little he could catch was essential to their survival. Even so, he sat an extra moment and looked at her as she slept, wondering how in the world they would get through all of this. There was no other choice but to go on, of course, and if anyone could do it, it would be Carol, and he would help her as much as she would allow him to. He just wished that she didn't _have to _go through any of it. Surely, she had suffered enough for several lifetimes. They all had.

When he finally moved to stand up, he found that she had been leaning against him ever so slightly. When he shifted, there was a second where he wondered if she was going to topple over and wake herself up. However, she startled slightly in her sleep and righted herself without actually waking up, and he stood the rest of the way up, picking up his crossbow from the floor and pausing once again to look down at her. It wasn't often that she looked peaceful, but this was one of those times. Turning slowly and trying not to let the floorboards creak under his weight, he walked carefully to the door and slipped through it, closing it again behind him so that she could sleep a little longer before facing the harsh reality of day.

Outside in the main sanctuary of the church, Daryl found the other members of the group spread out, mostly on the floor, sound asleep. Rick was the only one awake, looking out across the large room in the darkness. His eyes were trained on the double doors at the back of the church, which they'd barred for the night. Daryl walked slowly over to him, nodding in greeting without a word.

Rick nodded back. When Daryl stopped in front of him, Rick whispered, "Carol alright?" Daryl wanted to snort in reply and make a comment about why Rick suddenly cared so much about Carol's wellbeing, but he knew that it wouldn't help anything. Daryl hadn't been able to look at Rick the same way after he'd found out that the man he considered a brother had banished Carol from the prison, but continuing to hold that against him wouldn't change anything. Now that she was back with them, he could almost let it go… except, of course, that her obvious unease in the group was in large part due to Rick's actions. If she took off and he wasn't able to stop her, Daryl would hold Rick responsible. He just hoped that it wouldn't come to that.

Daryl just shrugged. "Much as she can be, I guess." Rick's mouth made a tight line and he nodded in understanding. They were all traumatized by many different things, of course, but Carol seemed to be having a harder time of it that most of the others at that moment. "Goin' huntin," Daryl mumbled, and Rick nodded in acknowledgement. "You're going on a run today?"

"The food bank, yeah," Rick replied quietly. "Takin' Michonne, Sasha, Bob and Gabriel." When Daryl looked at him questioningly for taking the priest along on the run, Rick just shook his head. "I don't trust him here, with everyone else, while we're gone." Now it was Daryl's turn to nod in understanding.

"Right. See you later," Daryl mumbled. Without waiting for Rick to reply, he turned and walked toward the church entrance, leaving the heavy bar that had been wedged into the door handles on the floor beside the door frame as he closed the door behind him.


	83. Reckless

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… yet. ;)**

**Season 5, episode 2**

**Father Gabriel's Church, Morning**

Now that the group had a place to stay, at least temporarily, Daryl's morning hunting trip wasn't quite as rushed. When they needed to get on the road, he had to make it back sooner than later. But today there was no such hurry for him to get back, other than to bring the meat back to be cooked while it was still fresh, which gave him a little bit more time in the woods. It was a luxury that he hadn't had since they'd been at the prison.

That day he did fairly well as far as hunting went, and when he finally did arrive back at the church, he had a string of rabbits and another string of squirrels. It was far from a feast, but it was more than he managed to get most days. As the mid-morning sun filtered through the trees, he approached the church to find everything quiet, just as he'd left it. Sitting down on a log in front of a makeshift fire pit outside the church, he set to work cleaning the animals who'd had the misfortune to cross his path.

He was engrossed in his work when the sound of the church door opening nearby got his attention. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Carl emerge into the sunshine, squinting slightly. When he saw Daryl sitting there, he walked towards him, slowly but purposefully. Daryl couldn't help but be surprised by how much the kid had changed since he had first met him. He almost pitied Carl, that he'd had to grow up in all of _this_… but then again, his own childhood hadn't been much better, just… fucked up in a different way.

If anything, upon second thought, he almost _envied_ Carl his childhood. _Now __**that's **__fucked up, _he told himself, shaking his head slowly. Still, despite the state of the world, there were a lot of people around the kid who cared about him. Never mind that they tended to die grisly and painful deaths…

"Hey, Daryl," Carl called as he approached.

" 'Sup, kid?" Daryl replied, glancing at the boy and then quickly back at his work.

Carl sat down on the log by Daryl, glancing at the animals that he was skinning but completely unfazed by it, despite the mess. The kid had long since seen so much worse, nothing seemed to shock him. Daryl had heard the others whisper about it from time to time – Carl's aloofness towards that should maybe have shocked someone his age – but then again, none of them had known any previous children who'd had to grow up surrounded by the world the way it was now. There was no real way to gauge what was normal or healthy or to be expected, for a kid or for anyone else. Really, all they could afford to focus on most days was that they were alive.

There seemed to be something on Carl's mind, but Daryl sat and continued skinning rabbits and squirrels, waiting until Carl felt like talking. Finally, just when Daryl had started to wonder if he'd been wrong about why the boy was sitting there, he seemed to decide that it was time.

"Daryl," Carl started tentatively, "I think something's going on with Carol. Even since she came back, she's just… not herself. I've tried to figure it out, tried to talk to her about it, but she tells me it's nothing, that she's just tired. But it's not just that… Is it? Do you know what's wrong with her?"

Daryl sighed, putting down the last of the rabbits that he'd just finished skinning, and turned to look at Carl. Carol had been like a mother to him since Lori had died, and even before that, when Lori and Rick had been having problems. Of course Carl would notice the difference in her.

"Yeah, there's something going on with her alright. Been tryin' to figure it out too, but she don't wanna talk about it." He sighed, trying to think of something he could tell Carl, who looked so worried. The truth was, he didn't know anything, and he was worried too. Still, he tried to reassure Carl as best he could. "She's been through a lot. Probably just needs some time." Daryl shook his head and glanced at the ground, then back up at Carl.

Carl looked at him skeptically, the look on his face telling Daryl that the kid was about to protest this logic. "I know, I know, we've all been through a lot," Daryl continued before Carl could say anything. "I think something happened out there while she was… gone." He didn't need to say anything about _why _Carol had been gone. It wasn't Carl's fault that Rick had sent her away. "I dunno _what_ happened. Just feel like somethin' did. I've been keepin' my eye on her though."

"I'll keep an eye out for her too," Carl volunteered. "We all have to look out for each other. Right?" he added.

"Absolutely, kid," Daryl replied, impressed that Carl so genuinely wanted to help. He was a good kid, despite everything.

Carl was looking at him as if he had something else to say, but wasn't sure if he wanted to say it. Not one to sit around and chat, Daryl began standing up, figuring that either Carl would spit it out, or he wouldn't. He'd only taken two steps toward the church when Carl spoke up.

"Hey, Daryl…" Carl began uncertainly. Daryl turned around to find the boy standing up, watching him. He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"I, uh… I'm glad you're looking out for her," he continued, growing more confident. "I hate that my dad sent her away. After all, she does _everything_ for the rest of us. She _saved our lives._ She deserves to have someone on her side, too."

Daryl just nodded, a look of agreement on his face. _How did that kid grow up so fast, and so smart? _he wondered as he turned and walked back toward the church with the meat, now ready to be cooked. "C'mon kid. Let's go see what she's got herself up to," he called over his shoulder. The leaves crunched behind him as Carl followed him back inside.

He went in the main door of the church, striding through the entryway into the large open room, where the light shone through the stained glass windows, bathing everything and everyone in colored light. His eyes found her almost immediately, across the room. When she saw him she changed paths quickly, walking towards him purposefully. When she reached him, she immediately reached out to take the strings of rabbits and squirrels from him. "You didn't have to skin them," she told him, looking at the meat, but not at him. "I would've done that."

He watched her carefully as she refused to meet his eyes. "I know," he replied simply. His eyes remained on hers, willing her to look up, hating that she was shutting him out. It was obvious to him how badly she needed to forgive herself for whatever had happened in the past, and yet, it seemed like she was determined not to let herself.

Her eyes flicked up to his then, just for a few seconds, and he saw something in them. Many things, actually. _Confusion. Gratitude. Anxiety. Determination. Fear. _

_Fear? What was she afraid of?_

She now held the strings of rabbits and squirrels in her hands and was looking toward the door that he had just come through. "I'll just go and cook these," she told him, grabbing a pot and a fork from where the cooking supplies had been stashed off to the far side of the room. He nodded at her, watching her quick movements as she once again avoided looking directly at him. It felt very intentional to him, and he wasn't giving up so easily. Instead, he followed her outside, emerging through the doors of the church as she crouched close to the ground to start the fire at the same fire pit he'd sat in front of only minutes before.

As he approached, she glanced up, a look of irritation flashing across her face for a fraction of a second before it disappeared, replaced by the same hardened look that she'd worn almost constantly since just after Rick and Carl had been reunited with Judith and Sasha with Tyreese. It was as though once the reunions had taken place, she'd made up her mind to leave. In a way, she'd already left them. Physically she was still here, at least so far, but mentally… that was another story. Sometimes she looked so determined to shut them all out, even _him_, that he wondered if, in the end, he'd be able to stop her from leaving them. Maybe he couldn't, but he was damn well going to try.

"You don't have to follow me out here. I'm _fine_," she told him, adding the meat to the pan over a small fire. She poked the food with the fork as she moved it around the pan and once again, she refused to look up at him. There was the slightest hint of annoyance in her voice, but he ignored it.

"Pffft," he replied, starting to get annoyed now himself. "Ain't nobody on watch out here. You got your back to the woods. You _hopin'_ somethin' bad's gonna happen to ya?" He hadn't meant to raise his voice quite as much as he had, especially since they were outside. _Really, she could be impossible when she wanted to. She __**knew **__better than this! _he thought in frustration. He glanced around, out at the trees, but there was no movement, no sound.

Carol sighed heavily, knowing that he was right. She _shouldn't_ let herself be so careless. She knew that she wasn't invincible. So many people they knew had died in such horrible ways, her own daughter included, many of them just because they'd been looking in the wrong direction at the wrong time. It was reckless of her to be acting this way. Pushing the meat around the pot again, she looked slowly up at him, holding his gaze for the first time in days.

She wished more than anything that she could tell him about the things that bombarded her mind from the inside, nonstop, all day, every day. Of course, she couldn't do it. He wouldn't understand. How could he? The things she had done were unforgiveable, no matter the noble reasons for which she had done them. She had to move past them, just stop herself from feeling it. The problem was that this was not nearly as easy as it sounded. It was even harder with Daryl constantly watching her. He knew her too well. She could fool the rest of them… but not him.

He was surprised when she didn't look away from him. It had been days – at least – since she'd looked at him without immediately looking away again. Her face, instead of the hard mask she'd been wearing almost consistently since she'd saved them at Terminus, reflected such sadness that he was taken aback for a second. At the same time, he also saw that look that he'd seen come and go on her face since she'd come back, the one that told him that she was thinking of bolting.

Slowly taking the last few steps to the fire pit, he sat down on the log across from her, the one facing the woods. Not only did it make more sense so that he could watch for danger more easily, but also because he wasn't sure whether he should get any closer to her. The last thing he needed was to make her retreat, whether mentally or physically. Carol was now watching him as he watched her.

She sighed again and stood up, moving slowly, hesitantly around to the other side of the fire pit and sat down reluctantly beside him, leaving about two feet of space between them, looking at the small fire. It seemed that she was once again avoiding looking directly at him, as she immediately leaned forward to stir the meat again. He watched her quietly, wishing there was something he could do besides just sit there and watch her. It didn't seem like it was doing any good, despite his good intentions.

The silence stretched out between them, the only noise the crackling of the fire. Moving the food unnecessarily around the pan so that she had an excuse not to look at him just then, she finally leaned back reluctantly, then carefully lifted the pot away from the fire and set it down nearby to extinguish the small flames. Still without looking at him, she then picked it up again and stood up. "Let's take this inside for everyone," she said over her shoulder in his direction, already walking away. He nodded, standing up to follow her and shaking his head slightly.

He walked unhurriedly behind her as she strode briskly toward the church doors. She seemed to be working very hard to keep him at arms' length, so what she said next was all the more surprising to him. "I think the water's running low, if you want to come with me to get some more after we eat," she added as they reached the door of the church.

"Alright," he said evenly, studying her as she once again attempted to avoid his eyes, his face giving away nothing. She was becoming accustomed to this look from him. Not a smile, not a frown, just… Daryl. Watching her. It was a look that he only gave her, even though it didn't really count as a look – it was as though his face was blank, and yet conveying something deeper than words could at the same time. When he looked at her that way, it was as though he was trying to read her mind. She knew how crazy that sounded – she would never have said it out loud. It was as if he was just waiting to see what she would do next. _Maybe that's exactly what he's doing_, she considered. Unable to come up with anything else to say, she hurried into the church, where the smell of food immediately attracted attention from the rest of the group.

Carol dished out the small portions of meat onto plates and into bowls, handing them around to until everyone had some. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. Daryl noticed that she hadn't put any aside for herself, so when she tried to hand him the bowl containing the final serving he just stood there, arms crossed, staring at her and shaking his head.

"Thought you cut out doin' that back at the prison," he mumbled, leaning towards her so that only she could hear him. She blushed slightly, knowing that she'd been busted. It had been a long time since he'd caught her giving all of the food to everyone else and not saving any for herself, though it hadn't been nearly as long since she'd _done _it.

"I'm not hungry," she replied under her breath.

He took a step towards her, his arms still crossed, so that he was now standing only inches away from her. She was still holding the bowl of food that she'd attempted to give to him. She'd been avoiding his eyes, but when he stepped closer, she looked up at him sheepishly, knowing what he was going to say. The intensity of the look on his face surprised her.

"Bullshit," he said under his breath. His expression was serious, but not angry. _Why the fuck would she think that I wouldn't notice when I'm standin' right in front of her? _he fumed in his head. "And even if ya weren't hungry, I'd tell ya to eat it anyway. You're gettin' too damn skinny."

She'd known Daryl a long time, and as much as some others may have been afraid of him at one time or another, she wasn't – not even when he stepped so close and acted like he was angry with her. He had a temper, sure, but she knew better than to take his behavior as aggressive. On the contrary, the only word to describe the way he was acting just then was… _sweet_. Not in the traditional sense, of course, but this was Daryl Dixon being extremely caring and thoughtful, calling her out on the fact that she was giving everything to other people and not taking care of herself.

She'd forced herself to forget just how sweet he could be, telling herself that it was easier that way. Maybe it would have been easier, but just then she had to fight to keep a smile from spreading across her face. Of course, there was no way a smile would go unnoticed at that moment, and he'd want an explanation… but she was fairly sure he _wouldn't_ want to be called _sweet_, so she fought hard to keep a straight face_._

He watched her expression change to one of the slightest amusement, which confused him. Had he said something funny? He didn't think so… In an attempt to look anywhere but at her as he grew more and more uncomfortable with the look she was giving him, he grabbed a bowl that sat nearby, took the other bowl that she'd been holding – much to _her_ surprise – and dumped half of the meat into the empty one. Glancing at both and satisfied that they were split relatively equally, he picked out the one with slightly more and handed it roughly back to her.

"Ya gonna eat this. 'S not a question." With that, he reached into his own bowl and picked up a piece of meat in his fingers, no fork necessary. In less than a minute the bowl was empty, and he'd set it down on a nearby pew. Looking back up at her, he found her watching him. The look of amusement had grown slightly. She skewered her food with a fork that she'd found among the kitchen supplies, chewing slowly.

"I guess you were hungry…" she observed, biting back the same smile.

"Pfft…" he grunted. Of course he was hungry. There was never enough food to go around, after all.

"Are you sure…?" she asked, suddenly feeling guilty that he'd given up half of his food to her. _It's my fault he only got half a portion, _she thought guiltily.

"_Stop_," he insisted, only pretending to be annoyed. "Eat it already."

"Okay, Pookie," she murmured, glancing up to see his reaction.

"Pfft…" he mumbled again, feeling himself blush slightly. "Just eat it already," he repeated, then suddenly he walked across the room towards Rick, turning to face her once again once he'd reached him, so that he could keep his eyes on her the whole time.

She looked down at her food, shaking her head slightly. If she wanted to keep herself from feeling the things that hurt so much, she couldn't let him get through her defenses like this. And yet, he'd done so effortlessly. She sighed, and felt her face tighten back into the mask she'd become so accustomed to wearing recently. _It has to be this way_, she told herself. _It's better for both of us._

From across the room, where he stood talking to Rick, Daryl watched Carol chewing slowly, appearing to be contemplating something. All at once she looked as though something had just occurred to her, and he saw the hint of a smile that had been there for such a short time disappear. This wasn't good.

He'd told Rick that he and Carol were going to go out and fill up the water jugs, so when he saw her abandon her bowl where Maggie was stacking them to be washed, he walked back over to join her. She'd already retrieved the four empty gallon-sized containers and had almost made it to the door when he caught up with her.

"You think you're goin' without me or somethin?" he grumbled as he followed her out the door.

"Of course not," she replied, a little more sharply than she'd intended. She regretted her tone, but did nothing to let him know that. If she intended to stop him from immediately breaking down her defenses, she couldn't let him see inside her so easily. If it was even possible to stop him, of course. Stopping and turning towards him slightly, she held out two of the empty jugs, which he took, and then she turned back around and started walking briskly again.

Two steps behind her, he just shook his head. She was pretty damn stubborn when she wanted to be, but she seemed to forget that he was, too. The walk to the stream took about ten minutes, during which she didn't turn around or slow down even a little bit. He'd quickened his pace so that he was walking beside her, but she hadn't said a word since they'd left. Her body language told him that she was stressed, but that wasn't much of a shock. She was acting the same way she'd been acting, on and off, since she'd been back. There but not there. Anxious, but wouldn't have admitted it. Not able to think of anything he could do or say that would help the situation, he just walked along beside her.

At the stream, they crouched on the bank and dipped the containers in the water, holding them steady against the gently rushing current. She hadn't spoken the whole way there. Normally he preferred silence to the alternative, because most people just wanted to talk for the sake of talking, and he'd never seen any point in that. But the silence between Carol and himself at the moment was tense. He wasn't about to attempt small talk, but he _did _wish that there was something he could say that would get through to her. Hell, he didn't know… she was the one who was good with this shit, not him.

And so they filled the jugs of water in silence, and Daryl noticed once again that she was not only avoiding any conversation, but any eye contact as well. When they'd finished filling the jugs to the brim and securing the tops, they both stood and began walking back in the direction from which they'd come. Of course, Daryl had been scouting the woods as he'd been hunting in the area, so he knew several ways back to the church. He figured that they might as well take one of the other routes on the way back, to see if there was anything to find. When they came to a point in the woods where the path split, he nudged her with his elbow.

"I know another way back," he mumbled. "C'mon." Carol just nodded, eyes down, and followed his lead. In a few minutes they were out of the trees and walking along a deserted dirt road.

He matched his pace to hers, not rushed but also not leisurely, both of them looking straight ahead, as they carried two gallon jugs of water each, one in each hand.

"Hey, I get it," Daryl told her finally. She glanced at him in surprise. He was surprised at himself, actually. He didn't really know where he was going with this, but he had to get it out. He had to say _something_. "You don't want to talk about it."

Carol looked away then, afraid that her eyes would betray her, even if she wasn't sure _how_ exactly they would do that.

"You okay?" He looked at her, willing her to meet his eyes. Surprisingly, she did.

"Gotta be." She said it softly, not completely flat but without much feeling either. _I'm trying_, she thought desperately, but the thought remained locked inside her head. _But trying to what? Trying to be okay? Trying to shut everyone out? Those were two very different things._

_Yes, _the voice in her head replied. _You're trying to do both, even though it means you're working against yourself._

He wasn't sure where the words coming out of his mouth were coming from, but they continued to come to him. "We get to start over. All of us, with each other," he told her. He hoped that it was the right thing to say. After all, it was obvious to him that something had happened, maybe more than one thing, that she just couldn't talk about, not even with him. It seemed like she wanted to put it behind her, but as of yet hadn't been able to. "You saved us. All by yourself."

"We got lucky. We all should be dead," she replied flatly, implying that she hadn't done anything worth mentioning. After that they continued walking in silence. Daryl was at a loss. He didn't know where the words he'd said had come from, but he didn't have any more. As much as he desperately wanted to reach her, he just didn't know how.

As they came over a hill, they saw an abandoned car along the left side of the road.

"I'll check it," she said as she walked toward it without a backward glance.

"Alright," he agreed. She seemed determined to do it herself, so he hung back, following her slowly toward the car, just watching her.

She opened the driver's side door and got in, looking around. Finding the key in the ignition, she silently begged the car to start before turning the key…but it didn't. That shouldn't have been a surprise, because otherwise surely someone else would have taken it already. Still, she couldn't help but be disappointed.

When she emerged from the front seat, Daryl could see frustration written all over her face. _Surely she didn't __**really **__except it to start,_ he thought. Otherwise the chances of it having been left here would have been, well, almost zero.

He watched as she stalked around the car to the back, keeping his distance, just watching. Using the key, she opened the trunk and lifted the lid to peer inside. Daryl walked slowly toward her, still about six feet behind, wondering what she would find. He needed to try again to get through to her. In fact, he was going to try again and again until he succeeded. She hadn't given up on him when he'd needed someone to bug the hell out of him for his own good, and he wasn't going to give up on her now. Whether she realized it or not, she needed him.

"Hey," he said, and then wait until he had her attention. She lifted her head out of the trunk, turning over her shoulder.

Her first thought was _What could he possibly want __**now**__? _Her second thought was that her frustration really wasn't with him, but with herself. She attempted to keep her face unreadable.

Daryl took a few more steps toward her, then stopped, not wanting to get too close and spook her. He was using what he knew about frightened animals, because for whatever reason, that was how Carol had been acting lately.

"We ain't dead." There it was. The thing he wanted her to remember, summed up in three words.

Carol looked away. _We aren't, _she thought. _But they are. Because of me._

"And whatever happened… happened," he continued. He got the feeling that he'd said something wrong, that he'd lost her again. _Fuck! _he thought. _I can't mess this up. I can't lose her._

She looked back into the trunk and started lifting something about the size and weight of a car battery. Daryl wasn't paying any attention to what she was holding just then, however.

_Keep it simple_, he told himself. "Let's start over."

She looked back at him over her shoulder at him again. The way he was looking at her… it hurt her to see it. _I don't deserve him, _she thought miserably. _I don't deserve any of them, but least of all Daryl. And if he knew… I just can't do it..._

"I want to." He almost didn't hear her reply, she said it so quietly.

"Well, you can," he told her evenly.

She looked down again, pushed a button on the box that she was holding, making a dial move. Hopefully this would get the car started, since it appeared to work. It was easier to change the subject to the physical object in front of her than to talk to anyone, even Daryl, about her feelings.

She put one hand on the trunk lid. "We should leave this here for backup in case things go south at the church." He just watched her, disappointed that she'd managed to change the subject, but hoping that this time he'd gotten through to her, even if it was just a little.

After closing the trunk, then bent down to pick up the water jugs that she'd left on the ground.

"You want me to carry one of those?" he asked. As he spoke, he swung his right arm to point at the containers that she'd picked up, but ended up tossing the jug out of his hand, sending it flying in her direction.

She looked up at him then, and all of a sudden she was smiling – slightly, but still, _smiling_ – and it was more of a smile than he'd seen on her face since their reunion. He put his hand over his face in embarrassment, grinning and, he assumed, turning beet red. Still, it had been worth it to see her smile, even if he had to make a fool of himself in the process. For her, he'd have done it again in a heartbeat. That smile had told him that the Carol he knew was still in there… somewhere.

Everything inside her – every emotion, every thought – had been locked away so tightly for so long, and when Daryl had suddenly tossed the water jug in her direction by accident… she couldn't describe it. After fighting so long against so many things that she was afraid to feel, seeing that happen before her eyes had just been… funny. She'd forgotten what it was like to find anything funny. Frighteningly, she'd nearly forgotten what it felt like to smile. But at that moment, something so tiny and trivial and silly did just that. She was attempting to hold back a chuckle at Daryl's clumsiness, and she was suddenly flooded with unexpected gratitude to him, even though he clearly hadn't done it on purpose.

"No," she replied, fighting to keep a straight face.

He bent down to pick up the jug again, his face still red, and they were on their way back to the church. They walked quietly, side by side, but the silence was no longer uncomfortable. As Daryl glanced over at her from time to time, he couldn't help but feel hopeful. Maybe he could help her after all.


	84. Disappear

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… **

**Season 5, episode 2**

**Father Gabriel's Church, Evening**

By the time darkness had fallen that night, the group was eating together under the high ceilings and now darkened stained glass windows of the church, as candles that had been scattered throughout the large room burned brightly, casting a warm glow on everyone inside.

Carol sat on the floor against the end of a pew, taking in the almost festive atmosphere around her, and yet feeling a million miles away from it all. The small group that Rick had taken on the run to the food bank had returned with an abundance of supplies, so at that moment, it felt like there was something to celebrate.

As people chatted softly and ate better than they had in quite some time, the atmosphere was, for once, happy. Happiness was rare and therefore precious, and for that moment, the group breathed a collective sigh of relief. Abraham had decided to take advantage of everyone's seeming good moods, and was now in the middle of a speech to the group aimed to convince them to help him get Eugene to Washington. If anyone had reservations about such a plan, they weren't voicing them just then.

Everyone felt the lightness in the air except Carol, who turned and looked down the aisle at the double doors of the church. This was the perfect time for her to escape unnoticed. She knew that what she was doing was irrational in many ways, and she was well aware of what Daryl would say about her plan… or lack of a plan, to be more exact. Her only plan was to leave the church alone, get to the car stashed out on the road, get it running and then… disappear. She knew that it wasn't much of a plan, but she'd just figured that she'd decide on the rest as she went. After all, what did it matter where she went? It was going to be the same everywhere, as long as she wasn't _here_.

Despite the obvious faults in her "plan" and the fact that everyone, including Daryl – no, _especially_ Daryl – would tell her that she was crazy for even considering it, she felt that she had no other choice. Daryl didn't understand. He _couldn't_ understand. None of them could. _She _didn't even completely understand. All she knew was that she had to get out of there. As much as she loved them, the knowledge of the things that she had done was eating away at her from the inside. She couldn't be sure that leaving them behind would make that feeling stop, but she had already proven that being _with _them wasn't making it go away.

Sometimes, when Daryl was right next to her, she almost felt like she could do it, like she could stay. But then sometimes, being around him made it worse, knowing how he would look at her if he found out what she had done. No, not _if _he would out. _When_. It felt like she was playing a dangerous game, being around him with such terrible secrets, terrified because she knew that eventually those secrets would come out. No, it was too much of a risk.

All eyes were on Abraham when Carol, who was sitting slightly apart from the group and closest to the main doors of the church, stood quietly. She was ready to make an excuse if someone questioned her, but she moved silently and no one noticed, distracted as they were, that she was no longer among them. _It's better this way_, she thought sadly. _No questions, no goodbyes._

So instead of facing resistance, she turned and simply walked away, just as she had hoped that she would be able to, scooping up her bag from the back pew where she'd left it when she'd come in. In some ways she was relieved at how easy it had been to get out of there unnoticed. In another way, however, it made her sad.

_That doesn't make sense! _she told herself in annoyance. _You didn't __**want **__them to stop you! You wanted to get away, not to burden them with your presence anymore. How can you be upset when you got what you wanted? Besides, if they'd known what you were doing, they'd never have let you go. __**Daryl**__ would never have let you go._

And yet, stupid as it seemed, she _was_ upset. No, not upset, exactly. That was the wrong word. But she felt the emptiness inside her – the same feeling that had made her feel unworthy of being with the group ever since Rick had banished her – expanding as she thought about never seeing any of them again. She immediately pushed the feeling as far aside as she could. There was no room for such thoughts. It wouldn't help, after all. It would only continue to torture her. It was like she'd been telling herself for so long now: she just had to stop herself from feeling it. _Any of it_.

She wanted to cry for what she was leaving behind, and yet, it would be so much easier on her own. There was no one to disappoint. Even more importantly, no one to _lose_. She couldn't stand the idea of losing anyone else. Besides, she'd done everything she could for them. She'd _saved_ them. Now they were alright, and they'd be better off without her.

Daryl had been sitting across the darkened room, his eyes flitting back to Carol periodically as everyone ate. They'd gone their separate ways when they'd gotten back with the water, and she was acting distant again. He was torn between giving her space and not wanting her to be alone, so he'd settled on sitting across the room and watching her intently. He'd been doing just that when Abraham had started talking. It had only been maybe a minute, two at the most, that he'd taken his eyes off of Carol and given half of his attention to the man who wanted his group to make some crazy trek to DC. He didn't know how he felt about it, but he figured he could at least hear him out.

As Abraham went on and on, Daryl's attention began to wander, and he found himself looking up towards Carol. He immediately noticed that she was no longer sitting across from him in the spot where she'd been, off to the side by herself, only a minute before. His eyes darted quickly around the dark church. _Dammit_, he thought. _Why the hell didn't I go over by her, or at least keep an eye on her? _He'd only looked away for a minute, two at the most.

A bad feeling quickly grew inside him. Sure, she could be around somewhere, taking care of something, or she could even have retreated to that closet room he'd found her in the other evening, but somehow he just knew he wouldn't find her anywhere around the church. His stomach clenched with anxiety as he hoped desperately that he would be wrong, that she hadn't just run... but something told him that he wasn't wrong.

Abraham had finally finished his pitch, and Rick seemed to have agreed to go along with it, though no formal discussion had taken place. He was holding Judith and gazing at her with a rare peaceful look on his face when Daryl stood up abruptly, causing both Rick and Glenn to look at him in alarm. "Anyone seen Carol?" he asked, scanning the room once again. Everyone looked around, realizing that she was no longer there.

"She was just here a few minutes ago…" Maggie volunteered. "Wasn't she sitting right over there?" She pointed toward the spot where Carol had indeed been occupying when Abraham had started talking. There were murmurs of agreement from the group, but that didn't help Daryl. He stormed off to check the rest of the church building, emerging a few minutes later to report that she was nowhere to be found.

"Daryl, I'm sure she's okay. Carol's not going to do anything stupid," Glenn told him. Again, the group mumbled agreement, everyone hoping that Daryl's alarm was just him being overprotective. They all knew how he was about Carol, after all. However, most of them had also noticed how withdrawn Carol had been since she'd been back with them. No one wanted to admit it, but if Daryl was worried about her, then the rest of them probably should be, too. Still, surely Carol was too smart to just walk away in the middle of the night… Everyone just looked around at each other, no one quite sure what to do next.

Daryl stood for a second and looked around at them, shaking his head. All he could think as he glared at them was_ Ya'll don't know her, do you?_ He could feel anger and anxiety taking hold of him, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to make the most rational decisions in this state. It didn't matter to him, however. This was _Carol_ they were talking about.

Rick could see the anger rising in Daryl, and knew that considering the history between himself and Carol, he owed it to her to take action quickly. "Daryl, let's check the perimeter," he suggested in an attempt to placate him. "I'm sure she's around. She's probably just being stubborn and didn't want to bother anyone to go outside with her. You know how independent she is." Everyone knew that Carol had a stubbornly independent streak. They all also knew that if anything happened to Carol, Daryl wouldn't take it well, to put it mildly. They'd been through that once before already.

Daryl turned and stormed towards the doors of the church, throwing them open, momentarily not caring how much noise he made. This, of course, was extremely unlike him. Rick and Glenn followed him outside, grabbing flashlights from beside the entrance that were stashed there for emergencies, and closing the doors quietly after them. The three walked the perimeter, peering into the woods that surrounded the church. Still, there was no trace of her that they could see.

_Hasn't Daryl always told us that he can't track anyone in the dark_? Rick thought, but kept the question to himself. Never mind that it was the truth, Daryl wouldn't want to have that thrown in his face just then.

"We'll go out at sunrise," Rick said reluctantly, knowing that Daryl wasn't going to take the idea of waiting until sunrise much better than he would the reminder that he couldn't track anyone at night. Not when Carol was involved. As it turned out, his assumption was right.

"Sunrise my _ass,_" Daryl mumbled, walking straight into the trees without a backward glance. Maybe the others weren't going to do anything, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna sit on his ass until sunrise. Besides, he was pretty sure he knew where she was going, and if he was right she wouldn't still _be_ there at sunrise. He had to go _now_, or she'd be gone_. _There was no way he was letting her just walk away from him if he could do anything to stop her.

"Daryl!" Glenn whispered frantically. It was no use. There was no stopping Daryl when he'd made up his mind about something, and his friends knew it. Rick and Glenn stood at the edge of the trees and watched as Daryl quickly disappeared into the darkness.

"Should we…?" Glenn started to ask, knowing what Rick was going to say. Rick sighed heavily, shaking his head.

"We can't leave the group three men short in the middle of the night, especially not without even telling them," Rick replied sadly. "And charging out into the woods in the dark is a good way to get ourselves killed. Daryl has the best shot of any of us out there, but what he's doing is still stupid, even for him. We can't go out after him. At least… not until morning."

Glenn nodded, and the two turned slowly to walk back inside. There was nothing they could do just then, as much as they hated to admit it.

…

As he made his way through the trees, tripping far more frequently in the dark than he wanted to admit, he cursed himself for taking his eyes off of her, and he cursed her for being so damn stubborn… for not understanding that she could do this… for not understanding that he wouldn't just let her _leave_. He was scared that he'd be too late and she'd be gone, or that something would have happened to her… and he was pissed as hell at her – for being so goddamn careless with her own life, and for not understanding how important she was to him. How could she not understand that he _needed_ her? Yeah, he sucked with words, but had he really not made her realize that after all that time?

In the dim moonlight, he approached the car that she'd checked earlier that day by the side of the road, and just as he'd expected, he saw her there. He watched her kill the walker that stumbled out of the trees as if it was nothing. She had no hesitation… no fear. For a second he just stood there, amazed, suddenly thinking back to the person she had been what now felt like so long ago… the day he'd handed her the pick axe and she'd cried as she'd driven it again and again into what was left of Ed. She wasn't the same woman she'd been back then… and yet, she was. Her transformation had been remarkable, though she had paid a steep price. Shaking his head to clear the memory, he stepped forward out of the bushes not far from her.

Carol had just gotten the car running again when she'd heard the low moan of a walker from the shadows nearby. She'd waited until it had come closer so that she could get a good look at it, then she'd walked forward without hesitation and stabbed it in the skull, as she had done so many times before. It was sad that this was now such a commonplace thing to do, that she no longer gave any thought to stabbing what had once been a living thing through the head. What had the world come to?

Just then, she heard a rustling noise from behind her, and turned quickly. She wondered if it was another walker, though there was no telltale moaning sound. This was unusual, though not impossible. Her muscles were on high alert, ready to strike again, and she was more than a little bit surprised to see Daryl appear out of the shadows.

"What're you doing?" he asked her quietly as she relaxed. She knew that he didn't mean why did she look ready to kill him. No, he meant what was she doing out here in the middle of the night. Her eyes darted around guiltily, knowing she'd been caught.

"I don't know," she said simply. She knew that he didn't believe her.

He was a few feet away from her, enough that he would have to step forward to reach out to her. He wasn't buying this act of hers, the idea that she didn't know what she was doing. No one had brought her here. She'd come all on her own.

"Come on," he said, attempting to get her to give him an actual reason for the fact that she'd snuck away from them. From _him. _He was hurt, but more than that, he was terrified that he wouldn't be able to get her to come back with him.

Just then, they heard a car approaching, driving fast down the road they were standing on. They quickly ducked down behind the abandoned car they were standing near, just in time to avoid detection. The other car drove by quickly without stopping, to Daryl's relief. People were even more dangerous than walkers, after all. At least with walkers, you knew what they wanted. With people, there was always a question about their motives, and you never knew, especially now, whether they'd turn on you as soon as you let your guard down.

Daryl ran out into the road to get a look at the back of the car before it disappeared from view, and saw the white cross in the back window. It was as though he'd suddenly been struck by lightning. _The white cross. __**Beth.**_This was an unbelievable coincidence, and possibly his one and only chance to find her. He'd failed her once… he wasn't going to let it happen again… not if there was anything he could do about it.

His entire body suddenly wired with adrenaline, he sprinted back and grabbed his crossbow off the ground where he'd tossed it, then ran around the car, and to Carol's confusion, began smashing the tail lights. They had to be as invisible as possible, after all.

"What are you doing? _What are you doing?" _she demanded. _Why had the car that had just passed them make him smash the tail lights of __**this **__car_? It just didn't make any sense to her.

But Daryl didn't answer. He was already running to the driver's side door. "Come on. _Come on_, get in." She was baffled about what was going on, what had just happened that made him seem so desperate to follow the car that had just passed them. Suddenly Carol forgot all about leaving the group and setting out on her own, as she jumped into the passenger side and slammed the door. As she did so, Daryl slammed the accelerator to the floor and the tires squealed, the car lurching into motion.

She didn't know where they were going, but she didn't think twice about going there with Daryl.


	85. Atlanta

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… because so much more would have happened in this episode if I did! (It's still one of my favorites!)**

**Season 5, episode 6**

**What was once a women's shelter in Atlanta, GA, Night**

The figures of the two walkers, one larger and one painfully small, looked surreal through the frosted glass. They seemed to thump against it more gently than any of the walkers that Daryl could remember coming across, which was haunting in its own way… or maybe it was just his imagination. He hesitated, staring at the figures silhouetted against the glass for just a few seconds after Carol had walked back down the hall and around the corner, away from the image and what it meant.

Even though she would never admit it, even to herself, seeing the shadows of the pair who had once been mother and child had left her shaken. It was as though every time she convinced herself that she could not possibly encounter anything that could hurt her more than what she had already experienced, convinced herself that she was numb to it all and that she could handle it… something else came along to challenge her resolve. How could she possibly stop herself from feeling all of the pain around her? And how could she possibly go on if she _couldn't_ stop it?

The sight of those two figures, in this place of all places – one that reminded her so much of Sophia – it didn't hurt her the way it would have once upon a time, before she'd had so much practice with steeling herself against her feelings. She'd thought that she'd been in hell back then. If only she'd known back then what she now knew about hell… Still, she couldn't bring herself to stand there for another second and watch them.

Daryl walked back into the small bedroom in which they had been laying back, side by side, on the bottom bunk bed only a few minutes before, to find her once again standing by the window. She stared out at the darkened, deserted city, another eerily haunting image, and didn't seem to even notice him as he walked past her. He'd planned to sit back down on the bed, like he had before. The mattress wasn't the best, but it sure beat the hell out of the hard dirt or even the floor of Gabriel's church.

It was hard to process the idea of going to sleep in an actual bed for the first time since they'd fled the prison – it seemed strange to have found somewhere so seemingly normal to sleep in the middle of a dead city – but despite the fact that Carol had told him to sleep while she took first watch (did they _need_ to keep watch in here, anyway?), he couldn't imagine sleeping just then. Not with Carol standing so rigidly by the window.

It wasn't that he couldn't sleep if she was on watch. He'd done that plenty of times. But she wasn't on watch just then. He didn't know quite what she _was _doing, other than, perhaps, choking on the emotions that she was working so hard to repress. He knew that he had no right to tell her how to deal with what she was feeling, and he wasn't about to try. Still, he wished that she _could_ deal with those feelings, that she could talk to him… about any of it. She was agonizing over how to do it all alone when in reality, she didn't have to. He didn't know how to make her see that, other than to keep doing what he'd been doing since she'd come back.

He paused part way to the bed, turning around to look at her and perching himself on the side of the wooden desk instead.

She still hadn't given any indication that she'd noticed him in the room with her, but then a heavy sigh escaped her, one that seemed to betray all of the burden that she carried with her but would never acknowledge. He said nothing, just continued to watch her intently, wondering if she would ever be able to let go of whatever it was that she held onto so tightly that she wouldn't even tell _him_. He knew that she confided in him more than anyone else, that she told him as much as she could. Anything that she kept hidden from him, therefore, was pain that she insisted on keeping only for herself – for whatever reason.

He'd been watching as her secret continued to eat her up inside, day after day, wishing that there was something that he could do about it. After everything they had all seen and done, everyone had fears and baggage and unresolved emotions – they lived in a _nightmare_, after all, one that they would never wake up from – but Carol refused to allow herself to talk to him about whatever it was that plagued her, and that was what worried him. What she was doing to herself just wasn't something that she could sustain indefinitely. Eventually, she would break.

He cleared his throat quietly, hoping to jar her from her thoughts. It worked, and she turned slightly, looking slowly over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were haunted, and once again he just watched her with the same steady look as always. Not smiling, not frowning, not judging, not pleading… just watching her intently, trying to see through the walls she kept so high around herself to whatever it was that she was hiding. He was trying to communicate something that he couldn't even articulate in his head. Attempting to be a steady presence, to remind her that he was there – he had always been there – and that she didn't have to pretend with him. Maybe it was too much to hope for that she'd understand all of that without him actually saying any of it, but somehow he thought that deep down, she knew. He _hoped _that she knew. By this point, how could she _not_ know?

_Because she's Carol, and she's the last one to expect anything from anyone_, he thought. _She's stubborn like that._

She looked at him for what felt like a long time, her eyes ever so slowly looking less haunted and just more exhausted. Finally, looking down at the floor as if something had just occurred to her, she took a quick shallow breath and closed her eyes. He had to force himself to stay where he was, so strong was the urge to walk over to her at that moment. Never mind that he had no idea what he would have done when he got near her. This was a situation where as usual, he felt very uncomfortable. He could, and had on many occasions, protect her from many, many dangers. Walkers. Armed people who meant them harm. Dangerous animals, not that they'd encountered many of those. What he _didn't_ know was how to protect her from herself.

Carol turned back to the window, not looking back up until she was facing away from him. He could see only the silhouette of her face in the small amount of moonlight that was filtering in through the sheer curtains. The longer he sat there, the more he could feel his muscles ache with exhaustion, and knew that hers must be doing the same. Somehow he had to get through to her, at least enough to convince her to rest. The sun would be up in a few hours, and they'd have to begin the search for Beth again with almost no information other than that they thought that she was being held somewhere inside the city. She needed to let herself sleep, if nothing else.

Slowly, feeling the tremendous effect that this place was having on her and not wanting to spook her, he got down off of the wooden desk and walked the few slow steps in her direction. Even in the weak moonlight, he could see her muscles tense even more as he approached. This made him stop, still at least two feet behind her, re-evaluating his nonexistent plan. Whatever he had been planning to do to get through to her, it suddenly felt like it would have been useless. Even so, that didn't meant that he wasn't going to try. He simply refused to believe that there was _nothing_ he could do for her. This was _Carol_.

As he stood several feet behind her, weighing his limited options, she slowly turned around to face him. Her eyes came up slowly to meet his, and for a long minute they just looked at each other, not moving or uttering a word, but somehow passing some sort of understanding back and forth between them. Finally, she shook her head slowly, her eyes falling closed. Without thinking about it, Daryl took the last few steps forward that separated them, stopping suddenly only inches in front of her. Once again, he wondered what he had been planning to do now that he was here. Her eyes remained stubbornly closed, her hands balled into fists at her side. He wondered when that had happened.

"C'mon," he said in a low voice, turning so that he was standing beside her and putting his right hand gently on her right shoulder, so that him arm only barely pressed across her back. "Ya need to sleep." He tried to gently push her in the direction of the bunk bed, knowing that at this point she was so exhausted, her mind would only continue to torture her, but he was surprised to find that her feet remained firmly planted where they were.

"_Carol_," he said, his tone a mixture of stern and gentle, only a little louder than before. He waited for a few seconds for her mind to catch up. She shook her head again, her eyes remaining closed. He pulled just a little tighter on the arm that was wrapped around her back and shoulder. It was out of character for him, but this was Carol, and for her he could leave his comfort zone without a second thought, even if he did so awkwardly. His reward for his effort was to feel her relax just slightly against him, so he tried once again to get her to step forward toward the bunk bed.

This time, she allowed him to steer her forward, all the way to the end of the metal frame where she could climb up. As she ascended wearily, he stepped to the side of the bed that faced away from the wall, pulling back the covers so that she could more easily climb in. Sure, she could have done this, but it was a small gesture, something that he could do for her easily to remind her that she didn't have to do it all alone, though she seemed determined to do so.

She hauled herself up onto the mattress of the top bunk, in disbelief that she had the chance to sleep on a bed once again, turning onto her back and pulling the blankets over herself before Daryl could get a chance to do it for her. It was sweet, what he was trying to do. She appreciated his effort, and yet… why couldn't he see that she simply wasn't worth it?

Staring at the ceiling, she knew that her tense expression gave away her state of mind, and she fought to relax the muscles on her face. After all, Daryl was still standing in front of her, watching her, probably trying to figure out whether he could afford to look away, much less surrender to sleep, without her disappearing again.

Turning to look at him beside her as he stood next to her bunk, she saw her suspicions confirmed. She forced a weak smile onto her face, knowing that he could see through it but wanting to give him some form of reassurance that she wasn't going to disappear again, at least not that night. After all, he needed to sleep, too.

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered. "I promise. Get some sleep."

Daryl nodded, walking back to the doorway and closing the door, clicking the lock into place and testing it before walking back toward the bed. Instead of ducking down to the bottom bunk, however, he stood and looked at her again, his eyes full of questions that he didn't ask. She just stared back at him and then, using every ounce of effort that she had left in her, forced herself to push the corners of her mouth up just slightly.

It was a sad smile that she gave him, really too small to even be counted as more than a twitch of her lips, but as far as he was concerned, it counted for a lot. After all, it was more than she'd managed for what felt like a very long time. So he nodded slightly and then finally he did duck back down to crawl onto the bottom bunk. The springs squeaked under his weight, and he got the feeling that this bed wasn't made for someone quite so heavy… but it held him, and that was all that mattered.

He lay in the dark and listened to the silence, swearing that he could hear her racing thoughts on the bunk above him. He realized that he didn't like the fact that he couldn't keep an eye on her from where he was, but resigned himself to the fact that she was fine, and only a few feet away. Though he'd thought that he wouldn't be able to sleep, it wasn't long before exhaustion got the better of him, and he did just that.

Carol, on the other hand, laid on her bunk and stared at the ceiling for what felt like a very, very long time. She could hear what she was fairly sure was Daryl's even breathing, and imagined that he was asleep. For a second she considered peering over the edge of the upper bunk to check, but she didn't want to movement of the springs in the bed to make noise and wake him, in case he _had _fallen asleep. For the most part, they had become light sleepers out of necessity.

Instead, she continued to stare at the ceiling, her mind racing, going over and over the things that she'd thought about a million times already. Her mistakes. The horrible things that she'd done, the ones that she should have done differently, and the ones that she would have done again in a heartbeat, no matter that she now knew the consequences. All these things that she simply could not bring herself to utter aloud, to anyone. Her heart ached as she realized for the thousandth time that she was never going to break out of this cycle. Nothing was getting easier. In fact, it seemed to be getting harder. And then, just when she was sure that she wasn't going to sleep at all that night, she finally fell into a dreamless yet fitful sleep, not very long before the first rays of dawn peaked over the horizon.


	86. Smoke

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… **

_A/N: I know it has been a while since I posted an update, and I apologize. Honestly, I've been struggling to find inspiration lately. I think it's because season 6 has given me almost nothing to work with in terms of Caryl… that is, until these last few episodes, even though it wasn't nearly enough. Thank you, Pofrito, for reaching out and encouraging me to come back to this story, and for giving me the nudge I needed. I'd been focusing more on my stories in my other fandoms while I waited for my inspiration to return. I can't believe season 6 is almost over… and I'm afraid to even guess what's coming in these last few episodes! In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and thanks for your patience!_

**Season 5, episode 6**

**What was once a women's shelter in Atlanta, GA, Night**

She had awoken slowly, feeling the sun on her face. The feeling of softness beneath her was confusing for a moment, until she opened her eyes and realized where she was. It was bittersweet, being in this place. One of her first thoughts after opening her eyes was of the day and a half that she'd been there with Sophia… in this place, and yet in another lifetime. She had been a far different person then... and her beautiful little girl had been alive.

And yet, as quickly as that thought and the stab of pain that accompanied it came and went, it was replaced equally quickly by the foggy memory of the previous night. While it was much more recent, it was almost hazier than the memory of Sophia, due to her extreme exhaustion combined with the emotional overload she had been feeling, that she was still feeling. Despite this, she could not forget the earnest look on Daryl's face the night before, like so many other times before that, as he had attempted to valiantly fight off her demons for her when she could not, in the understated way that he always did it. Truly, she thought, she did not deserve someone like him in her life.

For a second the feeling overwhelmed her. Try as she might, she didn't think she would ever understand why Daryl seemed to hold her in such high regard, why he seemed to think that she was worthy of such devotion. After all, look at all the terrible things she had done. In her heart, she felt like a monster. And yet, he stubbornly refused to accept that.

As she pulled herself up ever so slightly on her side, her eyes traveled up to the window directly across the room from the bed. Gray smoke wafted through the air just outside the window, making her wonder exactly what was going on. Daryl was nowhere to be seen, so she sat up quickly, pulling her gun out from under her pillow and scrambled down from the top bunk. Grabbing her rifle before leaving the bedroom, she carefully cleared each section of the hallway as she worked her way toward the reception area. She didn't encounter anyone or anything, Daryl included.

Meeting no resistance, she made it to a window that opened onto the flat roof area, from which she'd seen the smoke billowing from her view in the bedroom. Peering out of the window, she now had a clear view of the source of the smoke. On the roof she saw a fire burning brightly, the flames leaping to the height of an average sized adult, if not higher. The flames seemed to be somehow contained in a specific area, because they weren't spreading. Whatever this was, it had been started on purpose.

At the base of the fire, she could see a dark shape protruding from the flames. In the next second, she saw something that caused her eyes to moisten as her heart gave a sudden lurch, but it wasn't the fire itself that caused this emotional response. No, what threatened to break her composure was that she saw Daryl, approaching the fire carrying a life sized bundle wrapped in a white sheet.

She knew in an instant exactly what he was doing, and exactly what it meant that he had done. She also knew exactly _why_ he had done it. Quite simply, he had taken care of the mother and child walkers for her. If it had been up to him, he would have left the two behind the frosted glass. They couldn't get out, after all, so they were no threat to them. But instead, because he knew how much it hurt Carol to see them, he had freed them from the curse of living on as undead monsters, giving them the dignity of the closest thing he could to a respectful burial.

As much as Daryl may have _thought _that he knew how much this simple act meant to her, to Carol it meant even more than that. It never ceased to amaze her that Daryl knew – that he had _always _seemed to know – how best to help her through just about anything. In his simple, understated way, and usually without even using more than a few words, he could do the impossible. When no one else even saw her, he not only saw her, but read every tiny movement and thought.

Carol could not have conveyed the depth of what she felt at that moment sufficiently, even if she had tried. There were simply no words that would have been enough. And yet, that didn't matter. The strength of their connection ensured that she didn't need to tell him any of this. Like everything else, he just knew.

She watched as Daryl set down the second walker into the flames as gently as he could without allowing the flames to burn his skin, then stepped back a few feet. As he stood and looked into the fire's glow, she walked through the door that accessed the roof, behind where he was standing, and walked quietly out to stand beside him. He glanced up at her for a second, then looked back down into the brightness before them. She stood staring into the flames, just as he was doing, for several seconds, taking half a step closer to his side. Glancing at him for a second, she said simply, "Thank you," before looking back down. He nodded slightly in reply. The rest was understood.

The moment felt sacred, as though by performing this one small ritual, they were somehow also releasing some of the pain of their own memories of loss into the air along with the smoke which floated towards the sky. It wouldn't erase any of what had happened to either of them in the past, and they would, of course, still feel the losses they had suffered, but at that moment, some small part of the burden was eased, however temporarily. They both looked up toward the sky, following the trail of the black smoke, into the blue that was adorned with wispy white clouds. It was hard to believe that after everything that had happened in the world, the sky remained unchanged. It wasn't much, but at least it was something.

They watched as the gray smoke disappeared toward the sky for some time, until the fire burned lower and the sun had slowly moved higher in the sky. It was time to continue their search for Beth, they both knew, and yet there they stood. Daryl glanced down at Carol beside him, and saw that her eyes were still on the sky, staring up as if she were searching for something.

"Y'alright?" he asked her quietly. He had a feeling he knew where her mind had gone. He knew that here of all places, it would be hard for it _not _to have gone there.

Her eyes closed and the angle of her head slowly tilted down, her face tensing with emotion that she was clearly trying to hide. Again, the fact that she was attempting to hide it from him, the person that she was most honest with, told him more than words could have.

But then she sighed, and tried to find the words. "I was just…" she started, but the thought got stuck in her throat and she seemed to be unable to continue, instead just shaking her head slowly before allowing her eyes to blink open and look at the ground by her feet. Feeling him watching her, she looked up hesitantly to see the same expression on his face that she had ever so slowly allowed herself to count on from him. There was no judgement there, and some may have said there was no emotion in his face, but Carol knew better. What she saw in his eyes was what she needed – quiet, unwavering support, a look that told her she was not going to fall, because he wasn't going to let her.

Daryl's mouth curved up almost imperceptibly, but the hint of a smile was laced with sadness. "She sees you," he told her, holding her gaze securely for a few seconds, before the depth of what he said hit her fully, and the intensity of her emotions forced her to look away.

She stared at the ground for a few seconds and blinked, unsure of quite how to react to his three simple words. _How does he do it?_ she wondered. _How does he see right through me? _It had been something he'd just always done, almost like it was effortless, as though he'd already known her almost from the very first time they'd met.

He was starting to feel like maybe he overstepped, like maybe he was wrong, that she hadn't been thinking about Sophia and somehow looking for her in the clouds, or maybe just that he'd said too much. He'd been so sure it was the right thing to say, but now he couldn't read her reaction. Hoping he hadn't gotten it wrong, he started to backtrack. Taking a step back unconsciously, he finally took his eyes off of her, looking down into the fire again. "Uh, sorry, just thought…"

Looking up then, she realized that he'd taken her lack of response the wrong way. She gave him a sad smile, shaking her head and hesitantly reached out, putting her hand on his shoulder beside her. Only then did he look back up at her.

"No, you're right. That's exactly what I was thinking," she told him just barely above a whisper, glancing back into the fire. He nodded, watching her carefully, very aware of the hand that sat tentatively on his shoulder. She didn't speak again for more than a minute, but he could almost hear the wheels turning inside her head, and knew that she was choosing her words carefully.

Finally, dropping her hand from his shoulder and unconsciously clasping it with her other hand, fidgeting self-consciously, she spoke again. Her voice was hesitant, and she kept her eyes on the fire. "I want to believe it. Sometimes I can. But most of the time, it's too much. It just…"

She shook her head, then, her eyes closed once again of their own volition and her face contorted slightly, feeling the familiar sting as she let herself remember the sensation that came over her when she thought of her daughter. It still felt painfully raw, even after all this time, which was the reason she simply couldn't give in to it most of the time.

When she looked up again after a few minutes, feeling the sting subsiding slowly, he was watching her with that same look once again. It was a relief, almost soothing. There was nothing expected of her, no pity in his face, simply a knowing expression. She couldn't help but feel anchored in place by him, which was what she needed, since at that moment she felt like she might otherwise have floated away with the smoke that was still rising in front of them and been lost in the vastness of the universe.

Managing the strength to smile sadly at him, she pushed her tumultuous thoughts aside. The fire was much lower now.

"You ready to go find Beth?" she asked him. The dam that held back her emotions had been reset in its place, and she no longer looked as desperate as she had a moment before.

"Yup," he replied simply, in typical Daryl fashion. He glanced at the fire that was close to burning itself out around the smoldering remains in front of them, then back at her. "Let's go."

With one more glance at the fire, they turned back toward the door. They had done what they could here, though it wasn't much. The main thing was that just for an instant, they had been allowed to breathe and to remember what it was to be human. Such a thing had become a luxury that they were not often granted.

Now it was time to try to find Beth, and, if they were lucky, to rescue her. While it seemed like a long shot, there was no other option but to try. The only thing that mattered at that moment was that whatever happened, they were in it together.


	87. Surviving

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… **

_A/N: Oh my goodness, Silent Skye, your poem review on chapter 85 was one of my favorite reviews ever. So creative and so kind of you! As far as this chapter goes, forgive me for taking a little creative license and making Daryl a tad more articulate than he realistically should be - it makes for a good Caryl scene, and I couldn't resist. :) Now about this whole season 6 finale, Negan thing… I'm trying hard not to freak out about it, so writing this chapter has helped me stay in my own calm little Caryl bubble. So do like I'm doing and just focus on __**this **__chapter, nothing else, and especially not on what may or may not happen on Sunday… Anyway, I can't tell you all how much I appreciate all of the people who take time to not only read but also review my writing. Your comments always make my day! I love to know that you enjoy reading this story as much as I love writing it! I'll see you all on the other side of the s6 finale… *insert terrified emoji here*_

**Season 5, episode 6**

**Inside an office building in Atlanta, GA, Day**

They'd been staring out into the stillness of a dead city from an office window high in one of the many tall buildings that littered the skyline. The deserted, run down skyscrapers before them and the streets in between, now littered with cars and debris, had once been Atlanta – one of an infinite number of now dead cities across the world. It was hard not to cringe as Carol looked out that window at the ruins of a civilization, now infested with wandering, moaning monsters. It seemed awfully fitting, however, almost like a visual representation of the way she felt inside. _Dead_. Sometimes she wondered how her heart was still beating when she felt like her insides should have ceased to function long ago, merely from the emotional toll that life had taken on her and all the things that she had lost along the way.

"You don't know me," she had told Daryl.

They'd joked about a painting on the wall of the office in which they stood. She'd turned away from the window, uttering those words without looking at him, walked back toward the table behind them, where she had begun strapping her rifle and backpack back on to her back. That way there was no chance of having to see his reaction, or of him catching a glimpse of the empty sadness in her eyes. While she knew that he _thought _that he knew her – and maybe he did know her better than anyone else did – after everything, he still saw her as a good person, which only proved that he _didn't _know her. Considering the things she'd done, the things that she'd pushed to the back of her mind out of pure necessity in order to merely be able to survive, things that still lingered there, howling to be acknowledged… No, anyone who still saw her as a good person didn't know her at all.

She knew with absolute certainty that if he knew the things she'd _done_, if he had really known her, then he would've seen her for the monster that she was. He certainly wouldn't be here with her, fighting for her, helping her stay alive, stopping her from falling into darkness over and over again. How could he? No, it was stupid and selfish of her, but deep down, she didn't _want_ him to know her. Though she knew that she was shutting him out, at the same time, just his presence was enough to calm her racing thoughts enough for her to breathe, at least most of the time. She didn't deserve his loyalty, this devotion that he continued to show her, and she knew it. So while his presence calmed her, it also left her anxious, knowing that she was unworthy of such devotion, such kindness.

Try as she might time and time again, she hadn't managed to forget any of the agony that she'd been through. Instead, she'd simply numbed herself to it as best she could. That was the only way she managed to look the others in the eye without crumbling, without feeling the need to run the other direction. Not that she hadn't tried several times now, and thought about it far more than that. Somehow, despite her best efforts, despite the fact that she knew it would be better for everyone if she left, Daryl kept managing to stop her.

_Daryl. _The fact that he could even still look at her, much less that he kept looking at her as if she was the person she had once been, before she'd done so many terrible things… it only further proved that he didn't know her.

"Yup. You keep tellin' yourself that," he chuckled. He was fairly sure, though not one hundred percent, that she had heard him. Whether she had actually _heard _him, well, that was a different story.

_Did she really still believe those words? That he didn't know her?_ No, she hadn't told him everything that she'd been through in the time that they'd known each other. He knew all too well that there were things that she was hiding, things that had happened to her when she'd been out there on her own, that she couldn't bring herself to talk about. It bothered him a little, but only because he hated to see her torture herself the way she did, holding it all in. It was as though she couldn't make herself believe that he'd still be there if he knew the truth. After all this time, it seemed to him that she should know _him _better than to think that he'd give up so easily.

But it didn't matter, not really. No matter what she thought was so horrible that she'd done, he knew the truth about her. He knew _her_, possibly better than she knew herself. She could deny it all she wanted, but it didn't change anything. That was how sure he was.

He followed her into the hall, where she stood waiting for him, ready to head back the way they'd come in, through a gap in a door that had been loosely chained shut. Stopping short in front of her, he stared at her intensely for a second, like he was trying to figure something out.

Raising her eyebrows questioningly, she waited for him to say whatever it was that was so obviously on his mind. "Ya don't believe that shit, right?" he finally asked, knowing that she probably wasn't quite sure what he was talking about, but unable to elaborate.

"I don't believe what?" she replied, genuinely confused.

"That I don't know ya." She couldn't help but notice that his voice had dropped even farther than usual into the gravely yet smooth tone that he only seemed to use when he talked to her. That tone had always been soothing and familiar to her, and at that moment it almost managed to counteract the panic that his words sparked inside her. _Almost_.

Her face immediately became pained. "Daryl, I…" she began, shaking her head and looking at the floor. Dismayed, he watched as it seemed as though her whole face, her whole body, even, seemed to close up before his eyes. Her eyes squeezed shut involuntarily, and her head continued to shake back and forth. He stood helplessly for a minute, unsure what the hell to do besides stand there and look at her and feel like an asshole.

It was as though Daryl knew exactly what she was thinking, as he always seemed to. She couldn't exactly tell him that he was wrong. She could have tried to deny it, of course, but it wouldn't have done any good. He'd always been able to see right through her, and he would have known what a blatant lie it was. So she stood there in front of him, wanting to try to explain, but the words died before they reached her lips, and she felt herself shutting down. Her eyes squeezed shut of their own accord and her head moved back and forth, side to side, as if trying to jar the images in her mind loose and somehow then somehow expel them.

It was almost a full minute before she was able to regain control enough to open her eyes. Even then, her attention remained fixed on a spot on the floor in between the two of them. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. "I can't…" Once again, the words wouldn't come.

"You don't gotta tell me nothin'," he replied smoothly. "It don't matter." His tone was matter-of-fact, as if there could simply be no argument because what he was saying was a fact. He paused then. Words weren't his thing, even with Carol. Usually they did their best communicating sitting side by side _without _talking. But this felt different, and he was determined to convey just how strongly he felt about this.

"Whatever happened, it don't matter. 'S like I said, we gotta start over. And besides… there ain't _nothin'_ you could tell me that would change the fact that I know ya. 'S that so bad?"

Without looking up, she was shaking her head again, harder than before, her mouth open to speak before Daryl had even finished, though she had trouble getting any sound to come out. Finally she managed to utter, "Daryl, you don't understand—"

But Daryl wasn't having any argument on this topic. He took half a step forward, so that only inches separated them, but kept his hands at his sides. His eyes bored into her face, though she refused to look up at him. "I understand that ya look out for everyone before yourself, always have. I understand that you'd walk through fire for anyone in the group if it'd keep them safe – anyone except yourself." She closed her mouth then, stunned at his words, and at the fact that the person he was describing sounded exactly like her. Being her usual stubborn self, she still refused to meet his eyes, keeping her gaze down, off to the side of him.

He had no idea where all of these words were coming from. He had never been any good with words, after all. Taking advantage of the fact that he was too shocked to argue, he continued, slowly but surely. "Ya don't give yourself half the credit ya should. The shit ya did, whatever it was, ya had good reasons. Maybe ya don't believe that, but I _know _it." He paused, watching her inhale sharply, wincing slightly as she thought of Lizzie and Mika, as she continued to stare at the floor. Before she could think of a reply, he added insistently, "Ya gotta stop torturing yourself."

She looked up in surprise then, finally noticing him standing so close to her, staring into her face. He looked frustrated, but she knew it was directed at her stubbornness, and not at her, as she watched his expression change into his normal, searching look. The one that most people would call almost blank, but which was merely him watching her, seeing more than just what was on her face. Of course, she still didn't quite believe him, but it was eerie how he had all but read her mind. That was, indeed, what she was doing, after all.

" 'S right," he told her. "I know ya. So don't tell me no different."

Realizing that this was an argument that she wasn't going to win – and that she didn't even have the energy to _have –_ she found herself relaxing slightly in defeat, looking at him with a sad smile and whispering, "Okay Daryl, you win." She was suddenly exhausted.

"Good," he said with satisfaction, adding, "Now c'mon, we got shit to do." He almost, but not quite, brushed his shoulder against hers as he began slowly walking past her toward the exit. She followed him, still rolling his words around in her head, not quite believing them and yet, feeling the sting of her own thoughts dulled just a little.

It was easier to numb herself to it all, of course, but, she had yet to succeed at it completely. There were still spots inside her where her emotions were raw and unprotected, despite her best efforts, so even if she couldn't truly let herself believe them, his words helped to soothe these scattered, self-inflicted wounds ever so slightly. When it came down to it, what mattered most was simply that he tried so hard to make her believe it, even if it didn't work. That counted for more than a little bit.

Minutes later as they climbed back through the gap in the chained door, one at a time, the two of them were met with the barrel of a gun at the hands of a scared looking young man, who demanded that they hand over their weapons, Daryl's precious crossbow included. There was nothing else to do for the time being but comply, unsure how they would make it to go after Beth or even to make it back to the rest of the group without a means of protecting themselves.

Their conversation forgotten for the time being, they focused once again on doing what they did best. Surviving.


	88. Trying

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… apparently Negan thinks he owns it, so he'll have to discuss that with Robert Kirkman.**

_A/N: Sorry TreatWeeble, we're not quite up to Carol getting hit by a car yet. As far as that whole season 6 finale thing last weekend, I have to say I'm relieved that Carol isn't in immediate danger, and that Daryl at least still has a chance. And now we won't know his fate until October (!) so until then, here we are still back in season 5 – relatively speaking, they're much better off, even if they didn't know it at the time. I have a feeling that this story will be catching up with the show before season 7 starts, since there wasn't much of any Caryl in s6 at all, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, we're still knee deep in "Consumed" Caryl goodness, so please enjoy this chapter!_

**Season 5, episode 6**

**Walking on a deserted highway bridge in Atlanta, GA, Day**

The conversation they'd had just a little while before kept rolling around in his head. He'd been working on picking a lock at the time, so he had been focused on the door in front of him. She'd been standing behind him, and she'd just started talking. _Guilty conscience, maybe_, he guessed, _on account of havin' tried to shoot that kid… stealin' our weapons or not, she was the one who'd wanted to spare his life in the first place, and then I had to stop her from shooting him._ He shook his head unconsciously at the thought, hearing the same words echo again in his mind.

"**I don't want you to die. I don't want Beth to die. I don't want anybody at the church to die. But I can't stand around and watch it happen, either. **_**I can't**_**. That's why I left, I just had to be somewhere else."**

**He had turned to face her then, suddenly frustrated. "Well, you **_**ain't**_** somewhere else. You're right here. **_**Tryin'**_**." He had turned his attention back to the lock as Carol had looked off into the distance.**

"**You're not who you were, and neither am I."**

Just then, the door had flown open in Daryl's hand, and he had put his knife back on his belt as she had continued talking.

"**I don't know if I believe in God anymore, or heaven, but if I'm going to Hell, I'm making damn sure I'm holding it off as long as I can." **

He didn't know what exactly she had been trying to tell him, which was probably why the words were stuck in his head. So according to her explanation, she'd left because she didn't want to stand by and watch the people who'd become her family suffer and die… it almost made sense to him. Except that, really, in that case what was the point of being alive? Yes, he'd been through more than his share of shit in his life. He'd been convinced that other people were nothing but trouble, that they caused nothing but pain. He'd worked hard to steer clear of people as much as he could for many, many years. For the most part, he was still convinced that people were trouble, even more trouble now than they had been before the Turn.

But what he'd realized since the world had ended, ironically, was that in the sea of humanity that wasn't worth giving a damn about, there were just a few mixed in who _were _worth the trouble. Now that he knew this, now that he knew _her_, along with the members of the group that had become his family, he just couldn't see abandoning them, not ever. Whatever the circumstances, he'd fight as long and as hard as he could for them, even if, in the end, they all died anyway. It wasn't who he'd ever been before, but that was who he was now. This vow applied to her, and it applied to his determination to protect her even against _herself._

He knew that the way Carol felt, the way she reacted to the life they had now – by leaving so that she didn't have to lose anyone else – it didn't come from maliciousness or a lack of feeling. If anything, it came from the fact that she felt _too much_. The shit that she'd been through, that was just the only way she'd found to deal with it. He'd thought that maybe things had been a little better since she'd come back. He'd known that she was still "off," but he'd been hoping that he could help her find her place in the group again, the way she'd done for him so long ago. It wasn't nearly that simple, of course, but he'd been doing his best.

When she'd snuck out of the church, however, he'd realized that she wasn't as okay as he'd hoped she was, as he'd wanted to believe she was. His heart ached when he thought about the fact that he couldn't fix whatever in her was broken, despite his best efforts. He simply didn't know how to help her. It was frightening that he'd come so close to losing her, _again_, this time to her own demons.

So when he'd seen that book on the desk in the shelter, Treating Survivors of Childhood Abuse, he'd seen it as one more thing that he could try. Maybe there was something in there that could help him fix himself, and then he'd be better able to help _her_. Hell, maybe there was something in there that would help her as well, despite the fact that she hadn't been abused as a child, but as an adult. It sure as hell wouldn't hurt to try, and he certainly wasn't going to get that chance again. Bookstores and the internet were a thing of the past, after all.

No, he thought as they walked side by side, silently, across the empty highway bridge toward the van with the white cross in the window, if you cared about people, you didn't just up and leave 'em behind. The fact that she'd apparently done just that didn't signal to him that she didn't care, however, it simply told him how very broken she was inside. Carol was not a quitter. She was a fighter. She hadn't always been, but he had watched her become one. He wasn't going to let her lose that fight now. He wasn't going to let her quit. They'd come this far together, after all. After all the times they'd saved each other's lives, didn't they owe it to each other to look out for the other? Whether she wanted him to or not, he was gonna do it, and there wasn't anything she could do about it. She was really goddamn stubborn when she wanted to be… but so was he.

Daryl had been strangely quiet, even for him, since she'd seen that book fall out of his bag back in the parking garage. Carol had watched his whole demeanor change in an instant when she'd seen the book laying there on the ground between them. Treating Survivors of Childhood Abuse? While she knew about his past, still, it wasn't something she would have expected him to pick up. She was glad, of course, because he could almost certainly benefit from whatever information was inside the book. He seemed embarrassed that she'd seen it, though, she recalled. The stance he had taken for a second had looked as if he was waiting for her to say something about it so that he could defend himself. She knew that it must have been a gut reaction, because she couldn't imagine him expecting her to think less of him for wanting to better himself. On the contrary, she was impressed.

Was there something more to what had him so strangely quiet? As much as she would have loved to blame other factors for it, she knew that it likely had to do with her, with her attempt to leave the group. She knew that to him, this was simply unacceptable, and she wished more than anything that she could make him understand. He didn't believe her, but she really didn't think that he knew her – not anymore. Not _really_. How could he?

As well as he claimed that he understood her, she knew that even so, she'd probably hurt him by trying to leave him behind. She regretted that more than anything else. If only there was a way to leave without having to hurt him. He hadn't changed her mind by coming after her, not completely anyway. He'd made it harder to leave, yes, but eventually she would have to leave again. She could feel it. But for now she would help him find Beth.

It was tragic, really, after spending so much time pushing him away, not wanting him to see the monster she'd become, and yet every minute also wishing that she could hold onto him like a life preserver in the stormy sea in which she was drowning, further and further under the surface every moment… and now here he was, not having glimpsed the monster inside her somehow, holding on to her for dear life, and somehow she was going to have to extract herself from his protective grip, despite the fact that it was the last thing on Earth that she wanted to do.

But she had no choice, she reminded herself stubbornly. She couldn't sit by and continue to watch them all get picked off one by one, and least of all him. No, if she had to watch him die, she would die a thousand times all at once, and the thought of it was simply too much. Was she just being selfish? Perhaps. Would there be a point to living if she ever managed to extricate herself successfully from the group? She had considered that, and found that while the answer was probably no, she simply could not surrender herself to death at the hands of the walkers. Not without a fight. And while she was well aware of the fact that this didn't make any logical sense, it was the only way forward that she could find. She felt a squeezing sensation in her chest, one that she usually kept at bay. It was so much easier not to feel it when Daryl wasn't around, when she could more easily remain numb.

They had spent hours side by side without a word between them too many times before to count, but this time it was different. He felt it, and he heard it, and he knew it without being told.

"You okay?" he asked, finally breaking the silence between them and glancing at her.

She sighed heavily, shrugging her shoulders noncommittally and looking at the ground in front of her. "I'm trying," she replied, repeating his earlier words back to him. She hazarded a glance at him for just a second, feeling a stab of pain in her chest, and he could see that the smile she attempted didn't reach her eyes.

He couldn't help but think that those two words seemed to take a great deal more effort for her to utter than they should have. He wished for the thousandth time, or maybe more, that there was something he could do for her. She sounded tired, not just in her body but in her soul, as well. Of course, they all were, but there was something about the way she said it that worried him. Something wasn't right. Even for her, as much as she had been through in all the time he'd known her, something new had shifted. It was as though she was beside him and yet not quite there all at once. She was the same person, and yet also a stranger, and it frightened him.

She knew that he was watching her, scrutinizing her words and her actions. Despite her best attempts, she knew full well that she wasn't fooling him into thinking that she was fine. She'd never been able to fool him. The fact that he wasn't pressing her to talk was because he chose not to, not because he didn't know that something was wrong. While she was grateful for the reprieve, she knew that it wouldn't last. But she couldn't think that far ahead just then.

Despite the need that she felt to leave them all behind, for their own good and because she couldn't bear to stay, as much as she wanted to, at the same time being around him was like a balm to her soul, one that she knew that she didn't deserve. It would only make it hurt worse when she eventually left, she knew. And yet, she allowed herself to feel it anyway, future consequences and pain be damned. _Soak it up now, while you can_, she told herself. _You do not deserve this, or any other comfort, but go ahead, take it in while you have the chance… just remember how much worse you'll feel when you leave. _At that moment, she couldn't make herself care about the future.

As much as he wished for words or actions that would somehow help, there was nothing else to say, nothing he could do, so they continued on in silence toward the van that hung off of the side of the overpass, hoping that it would give them some clue to Beth's whereabouts. The bridge was clear for the time being – they'd been lucky so far – but their luck never seemed to last. As they could be almost anywhere, they could easily be surrounded by walkers at any time, with limited escape opportunities, being on the elevated highway as they were.

The madness and the chaos inside her raged like a storm, one that threatened to destroy her. And yet, as long as she walked beside Daryl, it was like being in the eye of that storm – there was calm, there was peace. It was deceptive, and she could almost start to forget about the rest of it. The problem, of course, was that she knew that she could not remain in the eye, that she would soon have to pass through the other side if she was ever to find her way back out into the world outside… if such a place – a world outside the storm that held her prisoner – even existed anymore.


	89. Falling

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… or any other kind of dead, for that matter. :)**

**Season 5, episode 6**

**Walking on a deserted highway bridge in Atlanta, GA, Day**

She could still feel it… the terror. Even now, bruised but alive, she could still feel it.

Attempting to come back to the present, she couldn't shake the certainty that she'd felt only moments ago that _this was it_. They were going to die. After all, how could they not? The walkers were pushing hard against the van that dangled off the edge of the bridge… and walkers never needed to rest. They'd keep pushing on that van, knowing that two of the living were inside, their brains not functional enough to understand that they wouldn't be able to actually get into the van that way. They'd continue to push until they pushed the van right off the bridge, and that would be that. Short of a gang of people coming up behind them and killing every one of those walkers, Carol and Daryl's fates were sealed. It seemed a shame, after everything they'd survived, to be taken out in such a mundane way… but neither of them would ever have thought that life should be fair, even before the apocalypse.

Just as they'd expected, the walkers had indeed pushed the van off of the bridge. So why _hadn't_ they died? In the seconds afterwards, Carol remembered feeling only surprise. She'd been so sure that it had all been for nothing, everything they'd been through, everything they'd done to survive… and yet, at the same time… it was almost a relief to think that it was all finally over – the worrying, the endless agony of watching the people she loved die one by one, the running from a fate that seemed impossible to outrun... The feeling was now seared into her memory. Sure, she'd thought she was about to die before, of course… how many times? At this point, it was too many to count. But this time… it had just seemed like there was no way they were walking away. Except that they had survived.

With crystal clarity, she remembered that after fastening her seatbelt, breathing hard as the feeling of panic increased, she spotted Daryl's hand in front of her, already braced tightly against the dashboard. He was prepared for the inevitable fall they were about to take. For once, without a second thought or hesitation, without talking herself out of it or second guessing whether it was a good idea, she had reached up and put her hand over his. After all, they were about to die, and despite the warrior that she was, she had been able to admit that she was terrified. The only consolation she'd given herself in the moment before the van plunged from the bridge to the ground below had been that she wasn't alone. No, of all the people she could have chosen to have beside her when she died, Daryl was the only one she would have wanted there with her.

He'd been focused on breathing in and out, nothing else, because _goddammit, these fucking walkers are everywhere, and how the fuck did we get ourselves fucking cornered like this? How the fuck did I let this happen? After everything we've survived, we're gonna die like __**this**__? _Honestly, he was kinda pissed off. It was just not fucking right to go out this way.

And then suddenly her hand was on top of his, squeezing as if her life depended on it… and he realized that he had failed her. There was nothing more he wanted than to protect her, and where had it brought him? To the edge, _literally. _A spark of hope flared in him then, amid his distress at the thought of how they were about to fall off the edge of the fucking bridge… _but maybe we'll survive it_, he couldn't help but think. _You're insane,_ he told himself. _There's no way._

He turned and looked at her then, in the passenger seat beside them. She looked desperately afraid and yet… as beautiful as ever, despite how filthy and terrified as she was. There was nothing he could say that would make any difference, even if he _had _been able to find the words. But he tried anyway, saying the only thing that he could think of. "You hold on." Because if there was anyone who he had faith in to survive something impossible, it was her.

At that second, it was as though time slowed down, and he watched her squeeze her eyes shut, wishing that he could save her. Save _them. _ He gritted his teeth as they fell forward, his eyes shutting involuntarily just before they hit the ground, and for just a second, there was no sound. Were they dead? Would he be conscious and able to register the lack of sound if they _were _dead? But in the next split second there was a deafening noise that he recognized as the sound of the van bouncing loudly as the tires – all four of them almost at once, by some miracle – hit the ground. The vehicle was upright, not in a crumpled head on its front or top, as he'd expected. He'd opened his eyes then, shocked to find that they were still alive.

Though the van had seemed to be tipping forward when it left the bridge, with the ground rushing toward them quickly – much _too _quickly – through the front windshield, somehow when they'd landed a few seconds later, the impact hadn't been at the front end. Somehow, they'd landed flat, the shock absorbers doing their job to the extent that they could. They'd opened their eyes slowly, still hearing the snarls of walkers nearby. Surely, if they'd been dead they would no longer have heard walkers…

Daryl sat back stiffly. He'd been face down against the now deflated airbag that had exploded out of the steering wheel on impact, and his face and neck hurt like hell. Before he could even look over at Carol, he heard her breathe in sharply, and when he did turn to look over at her, he saw her leaning back against her headrest, her eyes closed. His heart jumped for a split second as he worried that she was badly hurt, but then she moved her head to the side slowly, mumbling, "We're okay," and he allowed himself breathe again, not even having realized that he'd been holding his breath for that second.

They both jumped a little when the first walker's body fell from the bridge above onto the top of the van with a loud _thud_. It was a surprise, though it probably shouldn't have been, since the walkers would surely surge forward toward the now-gaping hole in the rail above them. What seemed like a never ending string of the same thuds continued to rain down on the van for a long minute, leaving the ceiling dented, the smashed windshield dripping with blood and the area around the vehicle littered with bodies. If they hadn't been so desensitized to it long ago, it might have been overwhelming.

Carol and Daryl sat listening to the unpleasant sounds, flinching slightly with each impact and waiting for the noise to stop. It wasn't so much the noise that bothered Carol as it was the reminder of their lack of control of this world they lived in. It wasn't enough that they'd fallen off a bridge, pushed by the undead to almost certain death… now those same monsters were following them over the edge. The fact that the two of them had survived the fall? Merely an accident, to be sure.

Daryl watched her carefully, noticing that she seemed to be in pain. As she carefully stretched her muscles to check for damage from the fall, he saw her wince several times – though, as usual, she tried to hide it. "Y'alright?" he asked her with concern. Had they survived worse? Probably. But that didn't mean he wasn't concerned about her.

Glancing up at him, she replied, "Well, we're alive." Shrugging, she winced once more and slowly brought her right hand gently up to touch her left shoulder. He nodded and let out an affirmative grunt in reply. He couldn't argue with that logic. After all, how many times had he thought for sure that he was going to die, but then hadn't? It was impossible that the two of them were still standing (or more accurately at that moment, sitting)… and yet, they were.

They climbed out of their respective doors, Carol supporting herself on the front hood of the van as she came around the front towards Daryl. He could see right away that she was in worse shape than he was. As much as he felt like hell, there was no major damage, and he could walk fine. As he put their heavy backpack, the one that she'd carried earlier, over his shoulder, he saw that she was struggling simply to walk.

Without a word or a second thought, he walked up to her and put his arm around her shoulders for support, adjusting his hold on her a few seconds later when he realized that she needed more help than that position allowed. Instead, he rearranged their positions so that his right shoulder was under her left arm, her left arm around his shoulders, so that he could hold her upright. He worried about what might be wrong with her – not that he could diagnose or treat whatever it was – and yet… though he didn't want her to be injured, he didn't hate having her lean on him that way. As much as he'd always been one to shy away from physical contact of any kind, once again this was different, simply because she was who she was. Carol.

They began walking, slowly but surely, back toward the buildings of downtown. Carol didn't want to think about what they would do if they met any kind of resistance, dead or alive, at that point. She could barely walk, much less defend herself or run. It seemed to her that they spent the majority of their time doing one of those two things – defending themselves or running – and knew that Daryl couldn't make up for her current inability to do either one if it came down to it. The thought was frightening. She already felt like a burden to him, and they'd only walked about 10 feet.

_Pull yourself together_, she thought in frustration. She was working hard just to put one foot in front of the other, and she knew that thinking that way was only going to distract her from her current goal - survival. Their secondary goal was to try to find Beth, though that one was daunting. Even if she _was _being held at Grady Memorial, as the initials in the van had made them suspect, what were their chances? The two of them – both injured and practically unarmed – against who knew how many people? People who could very well be well armed, for all they knew. All things considered, it seemed like asking for trouble.

Without warning, her foot struck a hard patch of dirt sticking up from the ground, interrupting her shuffling steps and causing her to pitch forward sharply. She jerked forward, _hard_, and Daryl was just barely able to keep his grip on her, though awkwardly and not without effort. The sudden pain in her left shoulder was agonizing, suddenly becoming far, far worse, and she bit her lip hard – partially by accident and partially to suppress a scream of pain. His right arm tightened around her and his left arm flew around the front of her instinctively to try to steady them. In the end, he managed to keep them upright, though just barely, and for a second they stood still, catching their breath. They were suddenly much closer together than they had been in a long time, he noticed nervously.

Once they were steady again, he slowly began releasing his hold on her, not wanting to move too quickly and risk hurting her any further. His left arm dropped back to his side slowly, and the grip of his right arm, which he'd braced under her injured shoulder to help hold her up, relaxed just a little. He realized that he'd probably squeezed too tight.

"Shit, 'm sorry. Y'alright? I didn't mean to…" He trailed off, noticing that her head was still bent forward and she was taking slow, deep breaths, not seeming to hear him talking. "Carol?" he asked, turning slightly so that he was still holding her up, but had a better view of her face.

It took a second, but she finally nodded her head, taking one more deep breath before whispering, "Yeah." She looked anything _but _okay to Daryl, who knew that she was probably lying through her teeth. That was just the way Carol was. She took care of everyone else, but never wanted to admit when something was wrong with _her_.

"Bullshit," Daryl replied seriously, causing her to have to stifle a laugh. He noticed that the movement made her wince.

"Ow… Daryl… don't make me laugh. It hurts," she told him, finally looking up at him. It was clear that she was exerting a great deal of energy to put a smile on her face, and yet, it was a genuine one.

He shook his head at her, feeling a mixture of irritation and affection. She never wanted to admit when she needed help, like she was some kind of superhuman. He wished that she'd just stop lying to herself, and especially to him, when it came to things like that… and yet, her strength was one of the things that made her as amazing as she was.

Every part of him knew that she needed to stop and rest, but first they had to find a safer spot to stop. They'd only made it a few steps from where the van had gone over the cliff, and the area was far too open. The last thing they needed was too be surrounded again.

" 'm sorry," he grumbled, moving them slowly forward again. "But to be fair, that wasn't supposed to be funny."

"You just can't help it, Pookie," she said in a strained whisper. "Now let's get the hell outta here." Slowly and carefully, they shuffled over the railroad tracks, towards several abandoned buildings, never looking back, holding on to each other as if each of their lives depended on the other. In many ways, they did.


	90. Ashes

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… if I did, there would have been more than 5 seconds of Caryl in season 6!**

_A/N: Sorry this chapter took me a little while, but hopefully it was worth the wait. I expected to cover more than this short span of time, but t__his chapter just sort of poured out of my head and kept growing and growing, all on its own. It's funny how I sometimes have no control over these things! :)_

**Season 5, episode 6**

**An office building in Atlanta, GA near Grady Memorial Hospital, Day**

Carol sat on the wide bench-like ledge below the window, leaning back against the wall that enclosed it. She was grateful that she could keep an eye on the hospital with Daryl, who stood beside her just a few feet away, while also resting. After miraculously surviving the fall from the bridge, she felt as though every part of her body ached. She knew that this respite wouldn't last, and her weary muscles knew enough by now to appreciate any break they could get.

It was surreal, all of it. The office building they now found themselves in, staring out the large window at an unobstructed view of Grady Memorial Hospital. The remains of Atlanta itself – abandoned and empty, in one way, and yet very much inhabited, infested and overrun, in another. Just the fact that she and Daryl weren't moving at full speed in any direction, but instead that for once they were still, staring at the view, was strange. They weren't idle, however. This was part of trying to learn about the people who had taken Beth. Purposeful or not, they were so much more accustomed to running for their lives at any given moment, that being still was surreal on its own.

Even after all this time, it was almost too much to take in. It had been one thing to survive the end of the world in the woods. Nature didn't look all that different than it had before, after all. Left unchecked, it simply grew wilder. The small towns and neighborhoods they had wandered through had looked too quiet, abandoned, even ghostly… but not to this extent. Being in a large city like Atlanta, on the other hand, the differences were _far _more obvious. Though the physical structures of civilization still stood, this new reality felt almost alien. It was as if they'd traveled to another planet, or maybe hundreds of years into the future instead of just a few.

She imagined that it was like this in the big cities all over the world. After all, cities were completely man made. When the humans had ceased to exist to maintain them, nature had begun to slowly reclaim the territory the city had occupied for so long. The changes were striking. It had only been a few years, but looking at the view and thinking back on everything they'd been through, the Turn seemed like a hundred years ago. She simply couldn't reconcile this new world with the old one that she still remembered so well.

Carol felt as though she had lived more than one – maybe even more than _two _– lifetimes in the space of her adulthood. No – it felt more like she had someone else's memories inside of her head, because surely those multiple lifetimes could not possibly belong to the same person. And yet, _before _and _after _weren't all that different after all, because both were filled with horrors. She honestly couldn't be sure which lifetime she preferred, the _before _or the _after_, given the trade-offs. She felt guilty for even considering the question.

This detached, fragmented feeling was one that she couldn't seem to shake. On the contrary, it had only seemed to grow stronger as time had gone on, getting worse instead of better. Her seemingly never ending supply of hurt and guilt and desperation replaced with… nothing. More and more she simply felt hollow, even more than she had by the time Rick had banished her from the prison, which she hadn't thought would have been possible. She wondered if she had some form of PTSD – not that she knew the textbook signs or symptoms of it, only that people who had been through some great trauma and came out mentally scarred were often given this label. Or, they had been _before_, anyway. These days, the labels used by society were meaningless. Besides, it wouldn't have been a surprise if they _all _had some degree of PTSD. It wasn't as though any of them remained untraumatized by this point. If you were still alive, you'd seen enough horrors for several lifetimes.

Being scarred was an understatement, of course, one that she'd passed long ago – right about the time when Sophia had been lost. No, forget scarred, these days, she barely felt _alive_. It scared her sometimes, the way she had numbed herself to all of it… but it was the better choice when the alternative was pain so deep that it threated to consume her. Besides, you couldn't run for your life if you were paralyzed with emotional pain. The two simply couldn't coexist. She'd coped with the emotional overload for as long as she could, but at some point the switch had simply flipped. It was all just too much, and then it was just… _gone_. She wasn't even quite sure when it had happened.

"What about you?" Daryl had asked her. He was referring to how she'd changed, more or less, and if she'd started over. Had they really known each other this long and not talked about it? No, she realized, they really hadn't. They'd talked a little bit about things that had happened to them _since_ they'd met, but not much about what had happened _before. _Daryl wasn't good with words, so even if he _had _wanted to talk about his past – which he never had – it probably would have been a struggle. Carol had never wanted to talk about _before_, either… when it had been happening, she was too frightened of Ed and too ashamed to say anything to anyone.

Afterwards, when the world had ended, now blissfully free despite the fact that she'd lost nearly everything, she hadn't even had time to adjust to the fact – the miracle – that Ed was gone and could no longer hurt her before she had lost Sophia as well. After that, well, what was the point? Talking about it wouldn't bring her back, and it only made her feel the loss that much more acutely.

Besides, Daryl had seen all he needed to see. He had been a quiet observer from the beginning, and he knew two important things about Carol's past before he even really knew _her_. First, from his very brief time observing Ed before the camp had been attacked that night, he knew that the scumbag didn't deserve to be alive, much less to have Carol and Sophia. Second, he knew that she loved her little girl with all of her heart. So she hadn't _needed_ to tell him.

Ever since then, Daryl had simply been there beside her, through just about everything, and she knew – had known almost from the beginning - just from looking in his eyes that he understood. It was comforting – like a flicker of light, no matter how small it might be, in the darkness. Sometimes a tiny light was all that was needed to keep you going, and that was what he had quickly become for her.

Probably as a habit left over from the days with Ed, to this day Carol shied away from talking about herself at all if she could avoid it. She had never felt herself worth talking about, and there were always more important things to do than to worry about herself. Sadly, she had internalized Ed's attitude about her, despite how much she hated it. The only person with whom she made an exception to this rule, of course, was Daryl. Even with him, she held things close to the vest. But that didn't matter too much, because most of the time he could read her without her having to tell him anything.

At that moment, however, for whatever reason, she found that she needed to talk about it. She _wanted _to talk about it. Fidgeting with the crumbs left in her small bag of chips, which was now otherwise empty, she tried to work up the courage to meet his eyes. _Before_ – whether it meant before the world had ended, or after the Turn but before she'd lost Sophia – wasn't a time she liked to remember… it hurt for several reasons. Because of Sophia of course, but not _only_ because of her. It was also painful to remember who she herself had been back then. She had been so _weak_, and she hated herself for that. The memory of _before _was heartbreakingly bittersweet – her life had been like a prison, thanks to Ed, but at the same time, seeing her daughter's beautiful face in her mind, remembering her... _If only I had known back then, known what I was capable of. I would have… _

_What?_ Her train of thought stopped.

She forced herself back to the present, remembering that Daryl was there, watching her. "Me and Sophia stayed at that shelter for a day and a half," Carol told him, finally looking up for a second before averting her eyes again, staring out into the distance as the memory washed over her violently, like ice cold water. "Before I went running back to Ed. I went home, I got beat up, life went on, and… I just kept praying for something to happen. But I didn't do anything." Her voice dropped slightly then, as the reality hit her once again. She was ashamed. "Not a damn thing," she added, her voice one step closer to a whisper, self-loathing audible in her tone.

It was hard to look back on the person she'd been, knowing that she should have made something happen instead of just hoping for a miracle. She'd been so _pathetic_ then, and she hated that version of herself for not standing up to Ed. For not getting Sophia away from him. Not that it seemed to have mattered, in the end, at least as far as Ed was concerned. But just maybe, a stronger version of herself would at least have kept her daughter safe. She willed the sudden pain in her chest to end, trying to swallow it the way she usually did.

Daryl had been watching her intently as she spoke, saying nothing. There was nothing _to_ say to any of it. It seemed that her words were as much for herself as for him, and that just by being there to listen he was doing something important. He wondered how she could possibly beat herself up for having been a victim of such a monster – he hated that, like so many abuse victims, she talked as if what had happened to her had been her own fault.

At the same time, he understood all too well the guilt and the shame she carried, since he had his own, the memories of his childhood still strong after all these years. However, it was so much easier to see the reality of someone else's situation, where they themselves couldn't, than it was to see your own. The idea that someone could treat _Carol_ that way… he had to work hard to control his breathing, reminding himself that Ed was long since dead. As he had for so long now, Daryl once again thought about how lucky Ed was to already be gone, because he had no doubt that he would have killed the bastard himself, as painfully as he could manage.

Carol had stopped talking, and was now just staring out into the distance, lost in thought again. Daryl looked down at the streets below them, the occasional cluster of walkers roaming mindlessly. It was all such a damn _shame_. He hadn't liked humanity much before this, but now… well it just went to show that things could _always _get worse.

Suddenly, as if stirred from her silent reverie, Carol spoke again. "Who I was, with him, she got burned away. And I was happy about that," she turned to look at him then, not sure that he would understand. "I mean, not _happy_, but…"

_Of course he'll understand,_ she told herself nervously. Still, she wasn't sure.

Her focus drifted from his face to something beyond him in the distance, but at least she continued to look in his direction. "And at the prison, I got to be who I always thought I should be."

She focused on him again then, just for a second, a hint of desperation in her eyes, as if she was trying to impart something beyond the words that she was saying. In her head, her words suddenly didn't seem sufficient. She knew that he knew her, that he'd known the person she'd been at the prison – the "real" her. Or at least, that was the version of herself that she'd _wanted _to be the real one. Thinking back now, it may have been the only version of herself that she'd actually liked, or maybe just the version that she'd disliked the least… _  
_

_Had _that been the real her? Or did she just want to believe that? What did the idea of the "real her" mean, anyway? Was one version of her more real than the others? She tried to stop her mind from racing, and returned to her thought, the one she'd said out loud. _I got to be who I always thought I should be._ She had to finish articulating her thought, to try to make him understand.

"Thought I _should've been._" She paused, staring out the window at nothing, her eyes once again unfocused. She wanted to try to explain more clearly, but her mind was caught in another loop, remembering and yet desperately trying _not _to remember. _I didn't deserve to be that person, _she thought sadly. _That was why it didn't last. _Objectively she knew that that wasn't true. Life just didn't work that way. People didn't always get the things they deserved – though she wasn't sure where she fell on the issue of whether Ed's fate, in particular, was the result of bad karma. No, life was far too random and cruel to give people what they "deserved," especially now. No one deserved to live the way they did now.

The wave of emotion swelled inside, about to crash over her, and she fought to stop it the only way she knew how – by trying to numb herself to it. This was a rare moment when that numbness wasn't completely overwhelming her, however, and she could feel the raw parts of herself exposed to the curse of emotions, the thing to which she was so very vulnerable. She tried to pull the numbness back over her like a blanket, to enclose herself in its protective bubble once again. It felt unnatural, not to feel emotion, but it was the only thing that could hold her together. Her voice grew softer as she added, "And then _she _got burned away."

She wanted him to understand, _needed _him to understand. The "her" that she'd been at the prison, she had been someone she'd been proud of. It had been a first for her in as long as she could remember. She _had been_ proud, at least for a while, until she'd let herself become a monster. When she'd killed Karen and David, the allegedly good person that she'd been had ceased to exist, and just as she'd said to Daryl a moment before, that person had burned away simultaneously with the flames that had consumed their disease riddled bodies.

It didn't matter – to her, anyway – that her motives in killing Karen and David had absolutely _not_ been malicious, that the only thing she'd wanted, that she'd _ever _wanted, was to save the people that she loved. She had thought that the only way to do so was to eradicate the virus that was killing people in the prison. So she had done the only thing she could think to do to contain the virus, with no way to know that it wouldn't work, at a great price – her soul. And now she had to live with what she had done to those two people who she'd thought of as friends, family even.

Not having been able to save Sophia had always eaten away at her, too, of course. As far as she was concerned, the prison had simply been yet another failure. And then _again_, it had happened at the Grove. She had failed Lizzie and Mika. She hadn't been able to save _any_ of them, try as she might. They had lost so many people in so many horrible ways, and somehow Carol managed to shoulder herself with the burden of responsibility for each and every loss, despite the fact that logically, she knew that it was ridiculous.

So there was a reason she tried never to let her thoughts go down this path, tried to keep herself numb and detached from it all, and this was it. The doubt, the self-loathing, the guilt, the 'what if's… it was all too much. She pushed it all away with all of her might, trying not to let Daryl see it, despite the fact that this attempt was probably in vain. Part of her, the rational part, tried to argue that he would get it, that he would understand. But the rational part of her never won any of the battles that raged in her mind.

"Everything now just… consumes you."

Her voice was surprisingly even and calm, considering everything she'd just said. It didn't surprise him, per se, because it had been some time since Carol had allowed herself to show her emotions openly. It seemed unnatural to be quite so calm in the face of such horror, however, and it worried him. Her behavior lately had seemed haunted. Daryl knew that the horrors were still there, despite her best efforts to hide them behind her eyes, probably thinking that it was easier that way. He couldn't fault her there. God knew he'd been through enough in his life to know what it was like to feel overwhelmed, consumed. Her coping mechanism had become to make herself numb to it all. He could understand. After all, it wasn't as though there were a lot of options available, and giving in to the sheer volume of her emotions could probably have crushed her.

He absolutely understood her need to desensitize herself, but he also understood that despite what she thought, she couldn't shoulder it all alone. She was just _so _fucking stubborn! Which was why so often he would simply sit and look at her, hoping that what came through in his expression was the lack of judgement that he felt towards her but couldn't bring himself to explain. He understood that she took the entire burden onto herself, when in reality she didn't deserve to shoulder any of it. He also knew that he would not be able to talk her out of it. And so he simply hoped that she would allow him to share the guilt – even a little bit – that she couldn't bring herself to talk about, that continued to haunt her. Everyone needed an anchor, after all, something to hold onto in the midst of the madness, and he hoped that she would allow him to be hers.

Still, despite the fact that she didn't seem to want to – or maybe that she couldn't bring herself to – let him in completely, he could sense the struggle within her. He looked at her as she continued to stare out at the dead city before them, then looked down, tapping the tip of his long bladed knife on the windowsill several times before looking back up at her.

"Hey," he said in a low voice. It was the first time he'd spoken for quite a while, content to let Carol say anything and everything on her mind without interruption. It wasn't often that she decided to open up like this, after all. He only wished that she would do it more. "We ain't ashes."

It was a simple phrase, but one that he hoped would convey far more than those three words. She'd spoken of being burned away – several times – but he didn't see her that way. She saw herself as burning away into nothingness each time and having to start over. He saw her as rising like the Phoenix each time life threw such obstacles at her, succeeding where most people would not have managed to recover. She saw herself as broken – and maybe life had left some fundamental cracks in her – but the way he saw her, the shape that her allegedly broken pieces had reformed into was something truly extraordinary to behold.

No, she wasn't ashes, wasn't worthless, as she believed. If he was certain of only one thing in life, it was that. The heartbreaking thing was that, of course, she couldn't see it. He could only hope that if he looked at her long enough, it might be reflected back to her in his eyes.

He continued to watch her as she looked at him, her eyes disconcertingly vacant. He knew her so well, and yet, there were times lately when she was terribly hard to read.

She watched him as he looked at her, his eyes not moving from her. His expression was the same as always – _He looks at me with no judgement, though there is nothing I deserve more than to be judged_, she thought. No, in his eyes there was no pity, no anger, no disappointment, no disgust – none of the things that she felt about herself or any of the things that she feared he would see. No, there was just… _Daryl._ There was no other way to describe it.

Once again, it was as though the calm look on his face seemed to see right into her, to places that she could not see herself, or that she didn't wantto see. _How can he possibly see good in me, when there isn't any?_ she wondered. She fidgeted with her hands before finally brushing them against each other and setting them in her lap. They'd both shifted their gazes out the window. One thing – one of the many things – that she loved about Daryl was that he never felt that he had to fill the silence between them with empty chatter. If he had something to say, he would say it, but he wouldn't feel obliged to talk just for the sake of noise. The quiet was just fine with her.

They probably could have sat there for a long time, looking out at nothing, but at that moment there was a noise coming from somewhere in the direction of the hallway. They both turned at the sound, and Daryl was on his feet in seconds, moving toward the hall to investigate. Carol struggled to pick up their oversized backpack and then followed slowly after him, moving as quickly as she was able in her weakened condition.

Rest time was over.


	91. Frozen

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… **

**Season 5, episode 6**

**An office building in Atlanta, GA near Grady Memorial Hospital, Day**

Carol had been taken aback when Daryl had said that he wasn't going to help the young man in front of them, now pinned under a bookshelf and in grave danger, as one walker had already forced itself through the door nearby. Whatever anyone had ever thought of Daryl, based on his looks or the way he talked or his redneck background – or anything else, for that matter – one thing that _she_ had always known about him, seemingly even before he'd known it about himself, was that Daryl always did the right thing. He didn't like anyone to know, but as far as she was concerned he had a heart of gold.

So to now see him stare at the man, barely more than a boy, really, who would surely be dead within in a few minutes if they didn't help him… to see Daryl appear not to care if that young man lived or died… this was not the Daryl Dixon that she knew, and it frightened her to realize this. Yes, he had stolen their weapons, but in the times in which they lived, Carol could somehow overlook that. He seemed even more desperate than they were, and less equipped to deal with their reality. After all, he was alone.

Daryl stared at her, honestly shocked by her reaction. This fucking kid had stolen their weapons and then left them for _dead, _and she was surprised that he didn't jump right up to help him? _He took my goddamn crossbow, _Daryl thought. _No one fucking touches my crossbow. _Carol was a fucking saint, that was all there was to it. He knew that she'd laugh him into next week for even thinking that – anyone who'd survived this long in this fucked up world had done more than their fair share of bad shit, after all, but unlike her, _he _knew that all the shitty stuff she'd done had been for only the purest of reasons. Or, as pure as anyone's reasons _could _be nowadays. The people that she'd killed… it had been only to protect herself or her family. The woman didn't have an unkind bone in her body, no matter how she saw herself.

But back to the asshole in front of them – seriously, she was standing there practically begging him to help the goddamn kid who hadn't thought twice about stealing from them, and as far as he was concerned, that made her a goddamn saint. She was a far, far better person than he was, anyway.

The walker that had squeezed through the door at the far end of the room was sprawled on top of the bookshelf now, its teeth dangerously close to the kid's face. Sighing heavily and feeling nothing stronger than slight annoyance, he resigned himself to helping the little asshole. After all, Carol had just started moving toward him, and if he didn't take care of the goddamn walker, then she would. There was no point in her putting herself in danger to do something he could easily do from where he stood – and being as fucking stubborn as she was, she'd do it if he didn't.

Besides, it was his chance to show her that he wasn't the heartless bastard that he knew he was acting like, no matter how justified it may have been. He realized then what she had likely already known – that if he left the kid there to die in front of him, when he could _easily_ have saved him, it would eat him alive from the inside. The world may be fucked up, but using that as an excuse not to save someone, in this situation, didn't say anything about the world, only about him… and he wasn't _that_ guy. Maybe once upon a time he had been, but he'd vowed to be better than that – she made him _want _to be better. And so, finally realizing what Carol had already known, he raised his crossbow and shot an arrow into the top of the walker's head, just before Carol would have moved into the line of fire to stab it herself.

She turned around and looked at him, relieved. It had scared her for a minute there, thinking that he might leave that boy to die. The world that they lived in was a horrible place, and it had changed them all… but Daryl was a good person, no matter what. She had been afraid of what it would have meant if he _hadn't _saved the young man, despite what that young man had done to them. She'd seen so much of the ugliness of humanity – they all had – and she couldn't stand the thought that Daryl could become someone who she didn't really know anymore, someone who no longer cared. It was one of the things she loved most about him, after all.

But even more than that, he would have regretted it later, that much she knew for sure. _Please don't let him become like me,_ she begged silently. _A killer._ As painful as it was, she knew that that was who and what she was. Nothing else she'd done mattered anymore – no amount of good would erase the scars that she had inflicted on her own soul. She couldn't bear to think that Daryl, one of the most caring people she'd ever known, might follow her across that line. It was a line that, once crossed, couldn't be uncrossed. There was no going back. No, to say that she was relieved when he'd shot the walker in the head would be quite an understatement. To her, the action said _I'm still here. I'm still me. _It told her that his humanity was still intact… which made one of them, at least. Hers was long gone, as far as she was concerned.

Daryl stood against the wall, a brooding, frustrated look on his face. Carol glanced at him quickly and then, after a brief look back at the boy, who was still pinned under the bookshelf but not in immediate danger, she took a few quick steps to close the distance between herself and Daryl. When she stopped, she was unusually close to him, which she only realized once she was already standing there. Still, she didn't back away, and neither did he. Instead, she actually leaned the slightest bit closer to him, despite the fact that she suddenly felt very uncomfortable. It wasn't a _bad _uncomfortable – not that that made any sense to her, of course.

"Thank you," she whispered softly, her worried expression changing just for a second into a smile that lit up her face. He was fairly sure his cheeks were starting to turn pink just from this small recognition of what he'd done.

_Wasn't no big deal, _he thought. Looking at her with his trademark serious expression, he merely snorted, signaling that it was nothing. "Pfft," he huffed. Then, without changing his expression or taking his eyes off of her face, her said, "C'mon, let's save this asshole already." His voice was as low and raspy, as it usually was when he talked to her, and for a few seconds, she just stood and stared at him. If he didn't know better, he would've sworn that warmth was radiating out of her slight smile, straight in his direction. But of course, that was impossible…

Then, almost as quickly as it had appeared, her smile was replaced by the same haunted look that he'd seen so much of since the prison. He wondered what had shifted inside her head and had caused the change in her expression, but that was the moment when she turned back toward the young man, still trapped under the bookshelf and moaning softly, and began walking in his direction. This time, he was the one following her.

XXX

Daryl had stopped to help the kid up off the ground after he'd tripped on his injured leg as they ran down the hall, while Carol had run ahead around the corner. She reached the glass doors first, pushing them open and rushing through. They were trying to reach the building next door – the kid had said the basement there was clear. There was no way to know how he knew that, or to decide if they believed him or not. All they knew was that they had to get away from the building where they were, because the assholes from Grady would have quickly found them otherwise. From the way the kid was acting, they could see that that would be a very bad thing, though they had no idea exactly _why_. When in doubt, they had learned that it was safer to steer clear of strangers in general.

Carol was halfway across the alleyway between the two buildings as Daryl dragged the kid around the corner when the unthinkable happened – the car that they'd seen from upstairs appeared out of nowhere, careening down the alley and slamming into Carol, throwing her onto the hood with a sickening _thud_. Then, as the car slammed to a stop, she fell to the ground. _Hard_.

Daryl felt his blood freeze in terror for about half a second. His heart stopped, and he felt as though the force of the car had slammed into him, as well.

_NO. No no no no no no no… _his mind could form no other words, with one exception. _Carol._

He lunged forward almost immediately, but the kid, sensing what Daryl was about to do, now grabbed onto _him, _yanking Daryl backwards with all of his might. Daryl struggled against him, and being by far the stronger of the two of them, at another time he may have succeeded in freeing himself from the youngster's grasp. At that moment, however, he was overcome by what he had just witnessed.

"No! No, no, wait! Wait! _Wait!_" the younger man cried as he struggled to hold onto Daryl, who was at least twice his size.

"Get off me!" Daryl cried, his words slurred and indistinct, reflecting the state of his thoughts.

"They can _help_ her!" the kid argued. "They're the only ones who can. They have medicine. Machines. A doctor. You go out there, you'll have to kill them. Okay? And then she can't get their help. Is that what you want?"

Daryl was panting, struggling to breathe. That fucking kid was still hanging onto him, but Daryl had mostly stopped struggling against him. Not completely, but the kid's words were beginning to penetrate his brain, and though he fucking hated to admit it, the kid had a point. There was nothing he could do for Carol now, though it tore him up inside to admit it. For as long as he'd known her, he'd been the one person who _could_ help her, even when he'd been doing nothing but fucking sitting there.

He felt a whole new kind of helplessness, and he burned with anger and shame. This was _not _how it was fucking supposed to be! He couldn't lose her. He _couldn't. _What the hell was he supposed to do without her? He knew that he had to stop thinking this way, had to get his head back on straight and think of what the fuck he was going to do, but it was just not that fucking easy. Not when he was replaying the image of her being tossed to the ground like a fucking ragdoll in his mind, over and over again. He couldn't make it stop.

That kid was talking again, and Daryl was only partially aware of what he was saying. "We can get her back. We can get Beth back."

_How the fuck does he plan to do __**that**__?_ Daryl wondered. He wanted to pound the damn kid into the ground. This was _his _fucking fault. They wouldn't have ended up in that place at that time if it hadn't been for that fucking kid.

_Calm the fuck down! _the voice in his head screamed. Of course, it wasn't that easy.

The men had picked up Carol, putting her onto a stretcher and then into their car, then sped away. Only then did Daryl feel the kid release his iron grip on him, allowing him to take a step away from him.

"What's it gonna take?" Daryl asked breathlessly. He had to think rationally. He had to focus. Getting Carol back was not just an option. It was a _necessity_. It was going to happen. He had needed to find Beth, yes, he owed it to her to save her after he'd let her get taken… but this was something so much more. He simply _could not _fail Carol.

He'd managed to lose them both, and he couldn't let anything happen to them. He needed to save _both_ of them now. The thought of harm coming to either of them – Beth, who he loved like the younger sister he'd never had, or Carol, who was… what was she? It was simple, really… she was _Carol._ There were no other words for what she was to him.

She was everything.

"A lot," the kid replied, also panting from the exertion of having restrained an agitated Daryl Dixon. "They got guns. People."

Daryl stepped away from him, finally catching his breath. "So do we," he replied as he started walking. The younger man didn't know where he was going, but seeing as how he'd ended up unarmed once again, and Daryl seemed to know where _he_ was going, the other man decided to follow him. After all, he was going to need help. He was obviously a friend of Beth's, and he felt partially responsible for the woman having been hit by that car. After all, she'd saved his life when the angry guy in front of him had wanted to leave him for dead. He owed her at least one, and by extension, he owed this guy, as well. Besides, he figured, it was simply the right thing to do. There weren't many of the living left who weren't monsters… this guy was angry, but with good reason. He seemed like a decent enough guy, so maybe they should stick together. At least for now. If he wasn't too angry to let him tag along, of course.

They needed a vehicle, and they needed to get the hell out of Atlanta. Now that Daryl knew where Beth was, and where Carol would also be, his recon was done. There was nothing more he could do on his own. He needed to get back and get the others, bring a team back and somehow, he had to save the two women. Daryl waited behind a dumpster until a cluster of walkers passed by, then ducked quietly along the street to slip through an opening in a chain link fence. He noticed that the kid was following close behind him, though there had been no discussion of him doing so. In his place, Rick might have stopped to question him, but Daryl felt no such compulsion at that moment. Something in the kid's eyes told him that he could be trusted – at least when he didn't have a weapon. Besides, the kid also seemed to know a lot about Grady, and that was knowledge that he would need to get Carol and Beth back. No, he had to be okay with the kid tagging along for the time being.

For once, luck was on their side. Within in a few more minutes, they found a box truck that Daryl was able to hotwire, and they climbed into the front seat, still without a word. Daryl accelerated as they approached the chain link fence, the truck breaking through it easily. As he steered the truck around a sharp corner and out onto the road out of town, a small group of walkers looked up at the noise. By the time they registered the noise and the motion, the truck was already far out of their reach. They staggered robotically after it for a minute or two, but lost interest when they could no longer see or hear it anymore, and were soon distracted by other things.

Daryl drove the truck back toward the church and the rest of the group without a word to the younger man beside him, who wondered what the hell he'd gotten himself into. Working hard to focus on the road, Daryl glanced at the speedometer as the needle pushed higher and higher. He wondered just how fast the truck could go, and supposed that he'd find out. After all, time was of the essence, and it wasn't like he was going to be pulled over for speeding.

He envisioned Carol's crumpled body falling to the ground once again, and pressed him foot harder still on the accelerator. _I'll be back_, he promised her silently. There was literally nothing, no force in the universe, that was going to keep him from going back to Atlanta after Carol and Beth – though if his friends would agree to help him, that would definitely be preferable.

He bit his lip in frustration, as his knuckles turned white from squeezing the steering wheel so hard. He tried to recall a happier memory of Carol, but all he saw was her being struck by that car and falling to the ground. The man beside him glanced at him nervously, hoping that they'd make it to wherever they were going in one piece each, and making a mental note not to do _anything_ to get on this guy's bad side again.


	92. Bang

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but I think by now we all know that.**

**Season 5, episode 8 **

**Grady Memorial Hospital, Atlanta, GA, Day**

_A/N: Yes, I skipped episode 7 and anything that may have happened in between Daryl and Noah heading back toward the church and the exchange at Grady – because let's be honest, I'd rather skip to the part where they rescue Carol, and I feel like I can't be the only one. I'm writing so much angst in my other fics at the moment, and there's so much angst in this one even when they're together, I thought I'd spare all of us the angst of them being apart… __**again**__. Plenty more chances for that in the future, anyway, sadly. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter._

They stood in the dark at the end of the hall – Rick, Daryl, Tyreese, Noah, Sasha and their two captives – about to walk through the swinging doors and make the hostage exchange. In the end, Rick had decided that this was the best way to get Carol and Beth back with a minimum of casualties, hopefully none. After all, they _could've_ gone in guns blazing, but really, none of them wanted to lose anyone else if it could be avoided. They'd all lost too many people already.

Carol fidgeted restlessly in the wheelchair. She hadn't wanted to be in it in the first place, but Dawn had insisted. Carol wasn't exactly weak-willed, but given her weakened physical condition, she wasn't exactly up to a fight over something as trivial as whether she'd sit or stand. What was important was that she was going to get out of there, that Daryl and the others had come to get them. She turned and looked over her shoulder, glancing up at Beth standing behind her. The blonde looked anxious, and Carol attempted to smile at her. Carol was nervous as well, but as usual, she didn't think about herself, just wanting to calm the younger girl's nerves as much as possible.

"It's gonna be okay," Carol whispered. Beth looked down at her then, focusing on her face for the first time and appearing to come out of a daze at the sound of her voice. She smiled back at Carol and nodded in agreement.

"I hope so," she replied quietly. Carol turned back around then, squinting into the darkness at the end of the hall. She'd heard movement down that way, and was fairly sure that their group was gathered behind the swinging doors that had been left closed partway down the hall, blocking their view.

Rick peered through the narrow window in one door, while Daryl peered through the matching window in the other. There, silhouetted by light from the windows at the far end of the hall and surrounded by strangers, Daryl saw Beth and Carol, the two women who he'd failed to protect. Guilt threatened to choke him as he looked at them. They'd both ended up here because of him, and now his friends – _his family – _were being forced to risk their lives to clean up his mess. He kept his face impassive, as he usually did – not that it mattered in the dark of the hallway – but inside he burned with shame.

He could see that Carol and Beth were flanked by two men and two women in police uniforms, one of the women standing at the front of the group and appearing to be in charge, as well as one other man at the back of the group in a white lab coat. They were all so close by – less than the length of the hallway from them… and yet still so far away. Relative proximity wasn't the most important thing in the situation, however, because there were probably more guns in that hallway than there were people, and just one of those guns being discharged at the wrong time would surely set off a chain reaction that would be catastrophic for both sides.

Everyone was on edge, and the tension was palpable at both ends of the hallway. There was still so much potential for something to go terribly wrong, and Daryl wasn't sure he could stand to wait much longer. They needed to get their people, and get the hell out of there.

Daryl felt anxiety rising quickly inside him. Both of the women they'd come back for were still alive, thankfully, and they could both still be saved. _Shit_, he thought, _just don't let nobody do nothin' stupid. _Outwardly he seemed calm, his normal, steady self, but inside he was a bundle of nerves. Only someone who knew him well would have known how anxious he was – specifically, one of the two people at the opposite end of the hall who didn't belong here at Grady. He was not concerned for his own safety at that moment, and not even primarily concerned for those who stood with him – though of course, he would have put himself in danger to protect any of _them_, too. His concern was for Carol most of all. For as long as he'd known her, she'd been his first concern – even before he'd even realized it – and of course, for Beth as well.

Carol had heard Dawn tell everyone to holster their weapons, but could they all be trusted to_ keep_ them holstered? She knew that her people wouldn't shoot unless provoked, but she had no idea what the people standing around her would do, nor how they would react to the newcomers. Would they honor the agreement? Did they really intend for them all to make it out alive, or was it a ploy? If so, to what end? Dawn wasn't an especially warm or caring person. Could she be trusted to care that much about getting her people back safely that she would release the two of them unharmed? Carol shivered involuntarily, wishing they could just get it over with already.

The seconds that they stood behind the doors, as both sides holstered their weapons before the exchange, seemed to Daryl like an eternity. Conflict, he could handle. Waiting? That was another story altogether.

Beth and Carol saw the doors down the hall swing open, and six of her favorite people, plus two others, emerged from the darkness. After spending so much time afraid that she'd never see any of them again, her heart swelled with emotion. As usual, her eyes landed on Daryl first. He was really here. It was almost too good to be true. Then again, they weren't out of danger yet. _Think positive,_ she told herself, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.

Suddenly they were through the swinging doors, the only thing that had been separating the two sides, and facing each other warily. As Rick and the others stopped, still leaving a stretch of empty hallway between the two groups, they watched the Grady officers remain still as Beth pushed Carol forward slightly in her wheelchair. The wheelchair was just another reminder of Carol's weakened condition, and it made Daryl wince slightly.

_I shouldn't have let her go so far ahead of us. I should've told her to wait while I helped Noah out of the building. Hell, I should've made her go back to the church instead of letting her come along to Atlanta in the first place. _That last one, especially, was laughable and he knew it. He could tell himself all he wanted to that he should've done this or that, but still he knew that none of it would have made a difference.

_She wouldn't have listened to any of those things_, he reminded himself. _She don't never listen when she's got it in her head to do somethin'. _He felt the warmth of affection for her at the thought, despite how much her stubbornness drove him crazy. It was both one of the most frustrating and yet also one of the most endearing things about her.

_Kinda like someone else you know_, his inner voice replied. He could have tried to deny his own stubbornness, but what was the point? Anyone who knew him knew that was the case, and most importantly, _she _knew it as well. A hint of a smile tried to show itself on his face at the thought that they were so evenly matched. However, the muscles in his face were so tight with tension that the impulse simply faded, unable to be completed.

_No, _he realized upon reflection, _not only would she not've gone back to the church, but she would've just left the group, like she was tryin' to do when I found her by the car._ The thought was frightening – he'd come much too close to losing her yet again. But he hadn't, and goddammit he wasn't going to lose her this time, either.

There were words exchanged between the sides, but Daryl only half heard them. He pushed one of the hostages forward so that they could trade one for one. One of the men in the police uniforms in the other group had taken over for Beth, and now he pushed Carol's wheelchair toward their group. Never had such a short walk seemed so endless as the one when he watched Carol being pushed toward him. Daryl had to fight the urge to push forward in anticipation, lest that be taken as a sign of aggression on his part and destroy the delicate peace between the two sides.

And then just when he thought the agonizing wait would never end, there she was in front of him. The man in the police uniform who had pushed her wheelchair to their side handed him a bag, which Daryl tossed over his shoulder before he grabbed the handle of the wheelchair, pushing it a few feet towards the rest of the group and that much closer to safety. Before turning back around to watch the rest of the exchange, his right hand moved, almost without his knowledge, to her shoulder and gave the slightest of squeezes. It was as though he wouldn't be able to believe that she was there in front of him if he relied on his eyes alone to tell him the truth. It was simply too good to be true.

It wasn't yet the time for words, but words had never really been necessary between them anyway. In that second, his meaning was clear, and more was communicated in the brief contact than could possibly have been said in words during that fraction of a second, even if he _could _have found the right words – which was doubtful. _Fuck, but I'm glad you're safe. Don't you do that to me again. You know what you mean to me, right? _Then in seconds, he was once again facing the other group warily, impatient for it all to be over so they could get the hell out of there.

She felt his hand on her shoulder, and sighed with relief. _He did it. He found me_. _**Us**_. She was still slightly dizzy with relief at that thought… or maybe that was the pain medication they'd given her. She'd known that Daryl would fight with everything inside him to find her and to get her back – of that she had no doubt. However, the world was full of unimaginable dangers, and things so often didn't go the way they wanted them to. It happened all the time. The fact that they had all ended up here at Grady was nothing short of a miracle.

Deep down she'd been afraid that he'd have taken some crazy, unnecessary risk in order to save her, and that it would have cost him his life… that something would have happened to him because of _her_ – which she'd never have forgiven herself for – and that she'd never see him again. She had been afraid to admit that the thought had scared her, or how _much _it had scared her, even to herself. That is, she'd been afraid to admit it until now that he was there in front of her, and she felt herself let go of the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

But no, there he was in the flesh, holding onto her shoulder for just a few seconds, as real as any of the other people around her, or as the ground below her. He had done what he always did, even when she tried to tell herself that she didn't want him to – he'd saved her. Or, he would have once they got away from that place safely. Though she firmly believed that she didn't deserve such undying loyalty, she had it. She only wished she was _worthy_ of it.

For a split second, she wondered what he would think of the risks he took for her if he knew the truth about the things she'd done, but she pushed that thought from her mind. They weren't out of danger yet, and she couldn't let herself be distracted. There would be plenty of time to torture herself with her thoughts later.

She was now safely behind Daryl with the rest of her group, and already pushing herself out of the chair to stand with them, finally daring to believe for the first time since their car had struck her that she might get away from Dawn and her other alleged "rescuers" alive. She was unsteady on her feet, to be sure, but Dawn would never let her take the wheelchair out of the hospital anyway, so it was time to stand up and prepare to leave with the others. Besides, she hated having to be pushed around like an invalid, far preferring to walk if she was able. Just like always, if she could do anything to avoid having anyone else fuss over her, she would do it, and that included pushing through the pain. After all, she had a lot of experience at putting on a brave face when she was in pain.

Daryl was looking in the other direction, watching solemnly as the man who had pushed Carol's wheelchair forward escorted one of his comrades back to the other group. Beth was then exchanged for the second hostage, and it seemed that the transaction was complete. Turning back, he saw that Carol had been able to stand, limping gingerly toward the far end of the hall with Tyreese beside her. He was glad, both to see her able to walk and to see her get a head start getting away from these people… there was something that didn't sit right about this exchange, and he'd feel better when they'd left the hospital and gotten on their way. It had all just seemed too… easy. As though the other shoe was going to drop any second.

Except, of course, that it was never that easy. Things never went quite right for them, it seemed, and afterwards Daryl would tell himself that he should have been more skeptical. The woman who seemed to be in charge of the group at the hospital had one more condition: she wanted Noah back, as if he was a _thing _that belonged to her, and not a person who had every right to decide for himself whether he would stay or go. Rick and Daryl argued with her, knowing that Noah didn't want to be there, and that he felt strongly enough about it that he'd gone to the trouble to escape. They weren't quite sure who this woman thought she was to refer to Noah as "mine." Feeling that they owed it to him not to simply turn him back over to her after he'd helped them with their mission to rescue Carol and Beth, even though it meant going back to the place from which he'd just escaped, they were shocked when he'd given himself up to Dawn rather than jeopardize the deal.

It had all gone so quickly after that, and so terribly, terribly wrong.

_BANG._

For a few seconds, it felt as though the air had been sucked out of the entire building, with no one on either side able to breathe.

_Beth._

Daryl recovered before any of the others and, never having been one to stop and ask questions first, even when he was thinking clearly – which he was not in that moment – he didn't hesitate to take out the woman in front of him who had just killed Beth, in the exact same way that she had shot their young friend – a shot to the head. He was ready to kill the rest of them, too, except that it immediately became clear that none of the rest of them wanted any trouble. The other side lowered their weapons, but Daryl stood frozen, pointing the gun that he'd almost forgotten was in his hand, still too shocked to move. The pain in his chest was intense, and thinking about moving – thinking about _anything _except the horror that he had just witnessed– was simply impossible.

And then, a hand was on his shoulder, the touch gentle and familiar, and his numb senses slowly began to register again. Carol was standing just behind him, quiet sounds of grief escaping from her and reaching his ears. He turned away from where Beth lay in the middle of the hallway in a pool of blood, walking slowly beside Carol back toward the others a few steps away, where they stood rooted to the hallway floor, still immobilized with shock and horror.

Rick was the last to lower his gun, the last one left staring open-mouthed, unable to force his mind to begin functioning again. The others from the hospital group said that it had "only been about her," meaning Dawn, who now lay on the floor with a hole in her head. They even offered to let Rick's group stay with them at Grady. But Rick, now finally recovering the power of speech, declined, knowing that despite the thick walls around them and the supplies that remained there for the time being, anything would be preferable to staying in that hospital, or even in that city. He made the same offer to them, however, in a show of goodwill, saying that anyone who wanted to join his group could do so. Only Noah, Beth's friend and the young man who that final argument had been about, accepted Rick's offer.

And then finally, there was nothing left to say or do. They were leaving, but not the way they'd imagined. They moved through the dark corridors and down the stairs toward the main entrance with Daryl carrying Beth in his arms like a limp ragdoll. Tyreese walked at Carol's side without saying a word, one arm wrapped around her and gripping her hand with the other, for both physical and emotional support. Had Daryl not been overcome with grief, he may have been jealous of Tyreese's proximity to her, but in this circumstance, he was oblivious.

Rick and the others trudged wearily through the front entrance, emerging into the light of day. The rest of their group who had made the trip to Atlanta – Maggie, Glenn, Abraham, Tara, Rosita and Michonne – were waiting for them outside. No one could bring themselves to speak as they pushed forward, away from the hospital, knowing that as great as their own pain may be over what had happened to Beth, Maggie's would be infinitely greater in a matter of seconds. And indeed, as soon as she saw her sister dangling from Daryl's arms, she fell to the ground, wailing in agony. There was nothing to say, no comfort that could undo what had been done. Her cries rang in their ears, stopping them in their tracks and multiplying the pain that each of them felt. It wasn't just Maggie who had lost her, it was all of them. They had been here far too many times already, and yet, here they were again. The cruelty of each loss was like a knife slowly twisting inside each person who remained.

After standing in the parking lot outside of Grady Memorial for several minutes in shock, just staring at each other, the group somehow managed to return to their vehicles and began following the highway back toward the church, making it just outside the city limits before allowing themselves to stop. They knew that staying in Atlanta longer than necessary would have been foolish, and they couldn't afford mistakes, even in their grief and numbness. After all, they were always mourning someone, or at least it felt that way. No, by this point they were mourning so _many_ people, it was hard not to feel overwhelmed. Being numb was easier than letting yourself feel the pain, both because it was easier emotionally and because if you were immobilized by grief, it was infinitely more difficult to run for your life.

They slowly piled out onto the side of the road, silently agreeing to take a short break before continuing the rest of the way back to the church. After holding her on the ride out of the city, with Maggie squeezed in beside him and Glenn beside her, Daryl brought Beth out of the car and found that he didn't know what to do. As much as it didn't seem right to leave her laying in the car, it felt equally wrong to put her down on the ground.

And so he did nothing, simply stood in place in the middle of the patch of dirt alongside the road, holding Beth's lifeless body. Maggie stood nearby, leaning against Glenn and breathing heavily, appearing not to have any tears left but with no shortage of grief. Carol, ever the practical one and always trying to take care of these people who had become her family, walked back to the car and began rummaging around in the trunk. Within minutes she had found what she was looking for. Despite being worn and dirty, the thick wool blanket would suit her purpose.

Without a word, she walked over and spread it out on the ground a few feet in front of Daryl, who didn't appear to have noticed what she had done. She approached him slowly, not knowing exactly how he would react or if he was conscious of her there. Laying her right hand on his bicep, she stood beside him and waited to see what his reaction would be.

"Daryl," she whispered. He didn't answer, but exhaled loudly in reply. It was painful to see him like this, looking so broken. She felt it too, of course, but she had far more experience with numbing herself to the pain. Not sure what else to do, she simply stood there beside him, not letting go of his arm.

After several minutes, Daryl finally glanced down at Maggie, who'd sank quietly to the ground not far from where Carol had laid the blanket. Glenn was right beside her, as he had been since she'd found out her sister's fate. Sighing heavily, Daryl slowly and awkwardly knelt beside the blanket so that he could more easily lower the younger Greene onto it, releasing her hesitantly against the thick fabric. If not for the hole in her head, she could have been sleeping.

Carol watched from several feet away, feeling her heart break for all of them, but especially Maggie. The poor girl's father had been murdered right in front of them all, and now a similar fate had befallen her sister. Mercifully, she hadn't had to watch this time, but the ugly truth was the same – both of them had been killed by _people,_ not walkers, and within a relatively short period of time.

Being killed by walkers was horrible, of course, but that was simply what walkers _did_. Being killed by other _people_, on the other hand… it was hard to say that one was worse than the other, because death was death, but there was something that was just such a shame about the fact that human beings weren't able to stick together against the threat of walkers, but instead continued to kill each other – and in even more brazenly awful ways now that the rule of law had ceased. Human posed an even greater danger than walkers, in some ways, because you couldn't know their intentions – sometimes until it was too late.

" 'M sorry," Carol heard Daryl whisper to Maggie. "I didn't protect her." Then suddenly he stood up and walked briskly away from them, into the trees nearby. Maggie stared after him for a second, not saying a word. Carol wasn't even sure if she'd heard him, much less what she thought of his apology. Carol now realized more clearly why Daryl seemed to be taking Beth's death so hard – not only had Beth been like a sister to him, but as far as he was concerned, there was no one to blame for her death but himself.

What had happened to Beth wasn't Daryl's fault, of course, but it didn't surprise her that he'd feel that it was. Maggie turned her attention back to her sister, moving so that she knelt beside the blonde's midsection and taking her hand, Glenn hovering protectively nearby. Carol backed away, giving them time alone. Glancing around at the rest of the group, she saw the others resting, some talking quietly and some sitting alone. Everyone, that is, except Daryl, who hadn't yet re-emerged from the trees.

Rick approached Carol slowly, looking down at the ground before bringing his eyes back up to meet hers. He nodded at her in greeting. Her expression was solemn, her mouth barely flinching in acknowledgement.

"How is he?" he asked her quietly. It was a question they both knew the answer to. _None_ of them were okay, least of all Maggie or Daryl. Rick had seen how Daryl had held tight to Beth's body until now. He hoped for his friend's sake that Carol would be able to get through to him.

"I'll talk to him," she said quietly, ignoring the question.

Rick just nodded, then said hesitantly, "We're going to need to talk about what to do next. And we'll have to bury her before we go any farther."

Carol nodded, looking in the direction of the trees into which Daryl had disappeared. "Okay," was all she said, her voice distant and only half listening, her thoughts focused on Daryl, before she turned without another word and walked off in search of him.


	93. Shoulders

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… have I already mentioned that?**

**Season 5, episode 9**

**Along the road outside Atlanta, GA, Day**

She hadn't expected it to be easy to find Daryl amongst the trees – he had always been by far the most familiar with the woods of anyone in the group, and many times he seemed to appear and disappear into and out of the trees as if by magic. Still, she hadn't expected it to be this hard, either. Somehow, she'd just assumed that she'd be able to find him because of the bond they shared. That she'd just _know _where he was, or at least be able to sense where to look. They he would _want _her to find him. Or that she maybe just be lucky and stumble upon him.

What she hadn't expected was to have been walking slowly through the trees for what felt like at least thirty minutes and still not have seen any sign of him. It was disconcerting. She didn't _think_ he'd leave the group and just walk away… but what if he had done exactly that? What if he'd finally broken? They were all near the breaking point, after all. But he wouldn't just… leave. Leave the group. Leave _her_.

_Why not? You did_, said a voice in her head. _You left __**him**__. You walked away and didn't intend to come back. It just so happened that he found you in time._

_That's different, _she thought vehemently. _The group needs him. They don't need me._

These thoughts, laced with increasing levels of panic, were running through her mind when she suddenly emerged into a small clearing and there, sitting on a hollow log in front of her, was Daryl. On second thought, she decided that _sitting_ may not be the right way to describe what he was doing. It looked like he had collapsed on the log, and then slid forward, off of it onto the ground.

He didn't seem to hear her approaching, but she took that more as a sign of his state of mind than of her ability to walk quietly in the forest. If there was anyone who, under normal circumstances, would have detected the tiniest of sounds among the trees, it was Daryl. So either he was too distraught to hear her, or her was simply ignoring her. She couldn't decide which one of the two would have been preferable.

Still, it didn't matter, because whichever one it was, she needed to get through to him. She needed him to be okay. The _group_ needed him to be okay. They couldn't afford to lose anyone else, both because they needed all the manpower they could get, and also because none of them could stand to lose another member of their family.

His head was bent and his shoulders slumped, and he was staring at the ground. She'd seen him look broken before, but never like this. Her heart ached just to look at him, now knowing for sure that he was blaming himself for what had happened to Beth, something that was so very much _not _his fault. She knelt down in the dirt directly in front of him, in the space between his knees, which was the only part of him that didn't seem to have collapsed in despair. She moved gradually, so that she was directly in his line of sight. Still, it was as though he was looking right through her, like he was somewhere else. He was conscious, and yet he almost seemed to be unconscious.

"Daryl," she whispered, but got no reply, no sign that he'd heard her at all. She didn't really know what to do for him, only that she would be the only one who could get through to him. That much had always been clear. That was just what they did for each other; they took turns being the strong one, and bringing the other back from the brink of nothingness. She didn't deserve anyone as good as Daryl – that much she knew. But for now, she had him, and she certainly wasn't going to let him slip away if it was at all within her power to stop him.

And so she tried again. "Daryl," she whispered, more loudly this time, and took one of his hands between both of hers. Looking down at their hands together, she closed her eyes and squeezed her palms as hard as she could around his hand, which was so much bigger than one of hers. "Please, Daryl," she whispered. "We need you. _I _need you." She heard a sudden intake of breath and then slowly, his head dropped to his chest, and he began to lean forward, until finally his head was leaning on her shoulder. At the same time, his hand squeezed back against hers, not tightly enough to hurt, but enough to convey the force of emotion that he was fighting inside himself.

One of her hands released his, leaving the other clasped tightly, and she brought her now free hand up to the back of his neck, beneath his shaggy hair, to the skin along the edge of his shirt. She pressed her shoulders upwards, so that she was leaning into him. Slowly, the hand on the back of his neck moved back and forth, in what she hoped were small, soothing motions, and she leaned her head to one side so that her cheek touched the side of his face.

Her eyes were closed, and she tried to keep her breathing steady, attempting to calm him, by extension. "It's not your fault," she told him quietly but forcefully. "Whatever you think, it's not your fault."

She felt him shudder then, and she simply held on tighter, both to his hand and to the back of his neck, pressing her cheek into the side of his face just a little harder. It was so much easier not to let yourself feel. She of all people knew that. That was the way that _she_ coped, but she didn't want to see Daryl go down that road. There was too much at stake. Too much at stake for the group, for one. She knew _that_ without Rick having to tell her. Daryl was one of the strongest among them, and the group needed him in order to stay strong – both physically and emotionally.

And of course, even more than that, selfishly perhaps, she wasn't going to allow him to become the monster that she had. The one who couldn't connect with their own feelings because they blocked everything out. No, she couldn't stand the idea of him becoming like her. He was _so much better _than her. It was too late for _her_. After all of the people she'd killed… not just people whose deaths she'd been responsible for, the way Daryl felt responsible for Beth's… no, besides a few of those, she had actually, actively killed people. And not just one person. Not just two people.

She couldn't think about that at that moment, however. This wasn't about her, it was about Daryl. She could feel him shaking now, as he cried into her shoulder. He let go of her hand, and to her surprise, he put his arm around her, his hand on her back, pulling her closer. This was far from normal behavior for Daryl, even with her, and that told her how very much he was hurting. She simply clung to him more tightly, whispering again and again next to his ear, "It's not your fault."

Finally, after what felt like a very long time, she could feel the shaking stop. For a little while he stayed where he was, sitting perfectly still, and then, almost as if he had only just realized how tightly he'd been holding on to her and for how long, he suddenly let go. His head was the last thing to move, leaving her shoulder slowly as his head came up. He looked at her shyly, looking embarrassed. He glanced away, and opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but before he could, she did.

"Don't," she said simply. His eyes jerked back to hers in confusion. "Don't apologize."

He looked back at her in surprise for a second, and then his expression changed. He spoke then for the first time since he'd apologized to Maggie, his voice slightly hoarse. "What makes you think I was gonna 'pologize?"

"Oh, weren't you? My mistake. What did you want to say, then?" It was an attempt at normalcy that might have been too soon, but she knew how uncomfortable he was likely to be with his outburst. Even with her, it just wasn't something he _did_. She thought that if she lightened things a little, maybe that would help stabilize him.

He sat and looked at her, his mouth open in surprise, not knowing quite what to say. Finally he closed his mouth, his eyes narrowing at her. "Don't wanna talk about it," he said finally, turning away from her and crossing his arms across his chest, exactly the way she would have expected a small child to pout. She knew without a doubt that she'd been right, and she had a feeling he knew exactly how ridiculous he was acting.

She tried to suppress a chuckle, but it escaped despite her best efforts. He looked at her in annoyance that she could see he didn't really feel, and she almost laughed again, only stopping herself by clamping her hand over her mouth. He wasn't going to be over something as traumatic as Beth's death this easily, she knew, but she hoped that she had at least gotten through to him. He was staring out into the trees now, sitting with one foot on each side of the log. She pulled herself off of the ground, and moved in front of him to sit on the log as well, just past the reach of his knees. After their proximity a moment before, she found that despite still being close to him, she suddenly felt very far away. However, she didn't move any closer.

He was staring out at the trees, but he was conscious of her moving to sit in front of him on the log. She was almost close enough to brush his knees against her leg, but he remained still. He considered moving closer to her, but he didn't. He didn't even really know where that thought had come from. That wasn't… him. When it came to that kind of thing, he just didn't really know how things were supposed to work, after all.

He knew that he'd basically collapsed on her shoulder a little while ago, but he hadn't been in control of himself at the time. Now that he was… he still felt like absolute crap, and he knew that despite what Carol had tried to tell him, losing Beth really _had_ been mostly his fault… but even so, somehow he felt better having released some of the emotion he'd built up.

Though he continued to stare into the trees, he knew that she was watching him. Still, he didn't move, didn't glance at her or acknowledge her.

It had been a while since he'd been staring into the trees, and she'd started to think that maybe he just wanted to be alone with his thoughts. She'd been sitting there in front of him, somehow close to him and much too far away at the same time, and decided that she'd head back and check on the others. At least now she knew where he was, and she was fairly sure that he wasn't going to run off. She was pretty sure that when he was ready, he'd come back to them.

She stood up and stretched, and only then did he look in her direction. She couldn't help but think that he looked genuinely confused. _Had he forgotten that I was here_? she wondered, not sure why he was looking at her like that.

"Where ya goin'?" he asked. If she didn't know better, she would've said that he sounded slightly disappointed.

"I thought I'd go back and check on the others, tell them that I found you. And that you're okay." She stopped then, tilting her head slightly and looked as though she was considering something. "Are you? Okay, I mean…"

He shrugged his shoulders slightly, looking past her into the distance. Then suddenly, his eyes snapped back and met hers again. He attempted a smile, but he looked sad more than anything else. "Gotta be… right?"

She smiled sadly back at him, remembering the other times those words had been uttered between them. Nodding, she turned as if to start back in the direction of the others.

"Hey," he called, causing her to turn once again and look back at him questioningly. "Wait for me?" It was a question, and one that he asked not in his usual, confident very "Daryl" tone. He uttered these three words more unsurely, as if he didn't even know himself what he was asking of her. He didn't move to stand up, however, just sat and looked at her.

"Okay," she whispered simply. She really wasn't sure what he was asking her, all of a sudden. Swinging one leg over the log so that he once again had both feet on one side, he just looked at her expectantly. When she didn't move, he patted the spot beside him, indicating that she should sit down. Finally beginning to understand, but still a little unsure, she walked slowly towards him, sitting down slightly farther away than she'd meant to.

He turned and looked at her quizzically, as if trying to figure something out. "Ain't never bit ya before, and I ain't gonna start now," he said matter-of-factly. She smiled then, realizing that she was being silly, and scooted closer to him, to where their shoulders brushed gently against each other. This was where they tended to sit in relation to each other, so it wasn't out of the ordinary.

Still, for some reason, she couldn't help but feel far away from him. Assuming that it was probably just weariness from the extreme emotional toll of the day, a reaction to what had happened to Beth, and the contrast with how close they'd been when he'd cried on her shoulder, she dismissed any worry that she may otherwise have had on the subject.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, as they done so many times before, in so many other places after so many other emotionally wrenching things had happened, alternating between looking out into the trees and glancing at each other. Life seemed to be filled with nothing but pain, and yet… sitting here, side by side, there was a calm that could make them forget everything else.

Finally, without thinking much about it one way or the other, Carol leaned over and laid her head down against his shoulder. Doing so served several purposes – not that she had thought about any of them in advance. It reminded both of them that the other one was still there – both physically beside them, and emotionally there as well. It also allowed her to rest just a little, as she had only just realized how drained she felt by the events of the day.

And not least importantly, it gave Daryl something to smile about – albeit a small smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. Still, the light pressure of her head against his shoulder reminded him of what he _hadn't _lost. It was so easy, he realized, to focus on who and what had been taken from them, and so easy to lose sight of the rest. He could wallow in self-hatred over the loss of Beth – and he was sure that he would never completely forgive himself, no matter _what _happened – he could let it consume him, or he could remember that Carol was right there beside him, and that even though she'd been the strong one this time, pulling him back from the bleakness that had threatened to swallow him, that she needed him too – even though he knew that she hated to admit it, even to herself.

They'd sat like that for a while, until they were so relaxed that they both began to feel sleepy. Deep down, they both knew that they couldn't stay there any longer, and yet they hated the thought of leaving. All that waited for them back with the others was the reality of so many horrible things, the most recent of them being fresh feelings of grief and loss. And yet, that was their life.

" 'F we don't go back soon, Rick's gonna lead a goddamn search party out here," Daryl growled reluctantly. Still leaning against him, Carol chuckled quietly.

"You're probably right about that," she agreed. She turned her head towards him, so that she could press her forehead against his shoulder, feeling him lean into her ever so slightly. She held that position for thirty seconds or so, before sitting up reluctantly, then continuing to move until she was standing up in front of him.

"C'mon, Pookie, we have a whole bunch of people that need to know that you're okay," she told him.

"Pfft," he snorted, standing up in front of her. For a second they were suddenly very close together, only inches separating them. But what to do about it? It wasn't something that Daryl had ever been able to figure out, and especially not around Carol. Which was why, as a rule, he did nothing – and this time was no different.

She watched him, and it was as though she could hear the wheels turning in his head. She knew that he would stand in front of her and simply look at her. It just seemed to be his default in almost as long as he'd known her. Occasionally he'd surprise her with a few words, something simple but sweet, but mostly he just looked at her with a piercing stare. As strange as it sounded, she didn't necessarily mind. Well, maybe sometimes she did… There were days when she did wish fleetingly that he wasn't so damned _shy. _But she had been so burned by her past, that she much appreciated someone who would do nothing when they weren't sure, rather than do something that one or both of them would later regret.

Besides, that stare that he gave her? It was reserved only for her, and she knew it without ever having been told. It was the stare that told her that she was the most important thing in the world. There were days when that thought alone was simply too much for her. Lots of them, actually, especially since the prison, after Karen and David... ever since she'd felt herself transform into the kind of monster that could do that to other people, Daryl's stare had terrified her. She knew that she didn't deserve that kind of devotion, that she was unworthy of his admiration. Not just that, but she felt sure that eventually, he would stare hard enough at her and it would allow him to see the truth about her, and about what she'd done.

There were times when she felt the need to run, just to get away from the responsibility that his stare imparted to her. Other days, that stare was all that kept her going, the only thing that kept her tethered to reality when she felt like she was going crazy. She wanted to believe that she deserved someone like him, wanted it more than anything. But the truth was that she didn't, and she knew it.

She knew that it was only a matter of time before either she was overcome by the pressure of it and told him the truth – though she was sure that she was simply too much of a coward to do so – or, seemingly more likely, until he found out just how unworthy she really was. She felt like she should be the one to tell him, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Then again, he was so damn stubborn that even if she told him, he probably wouldn't have listened.

And so they stood and looked at each other. There was nothing to say, really, but that was okay. Words had never really been necessary between them – at least, not when it really mattered.

Finally Carol smiled sadly at him, turned back toward the direction from which they had come, and looked back at him over her shoulder. "Let's go, Pookie," she said simply, hearing him growl slightly at the repeated use of the pet name that he had been unable to get her to stop using.

She'd only gone a few steps when he was beside her, ever alert to their surroundings and ready to protect her, if it should come to that. Not that she needed protection, necessarily. The woman beside him had come a long way in the time he'd known her, and he was proud to know that thanks in part to him, but mainly due to her own determination, instinct and quick reflexes, she didn't _need_ his protection. They were now a team, and had been for a long time.

They trudged back to the clearing where they'd left the group. As they emerged from the trees, Rick looked up, appearing relieved to finally see them. Carol smiled sadly at him, nodding, and walking over to where Maggie was still crouched beside her sister. Daryl just stood and looked at the group, trying to keep Carol's words in his head despite the fact that everything inside him screamed that it had, indeed, been his fault. He thought of his head on her shoulder, and he thought of her head leaned against his shoulder. They held each other up, as they always had. Somehow, that thought helped him not crumble to the ground at that moment.

Rick walked over and clapped him on the shoulder. Daryl couldn't help but think that the other man looked ragged, and wondered if he looked just as bad. He imagined that he probably did, maybe worse.

"You alright?" Rick asked him, looking at him with concern.

"Yup," Daryl replied. His eyes darted for just a second across the clearing to where Carol sat on the ground beside Maggie, then back to Rick. "So what's next?"


End file.
